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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 



SCHOOLGIRLS 
ABROAD 



By S. MARR *^*- 

(The late Sister M. Rita, of the 
Sisters of the Holy Cross) 



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Gbe Rve /Ifcarla {press 

NOTRE DAME, INDIANA 

U. S. A. 



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Copyright, 1911 
By D. E. HUDSON, C. S. C 



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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 



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I. 



E hardly knew how it all came about. 
One evening toward the close of May 
we were talking of the approaching 
vacation, and Catherine Rooker said 
her daydream was Europe; whereupon Aunt 
Margaret fairly took our breath away by declaring 
she would chaperon us if we could get the consent 
of our parents. Well, after that there was a whirl- 
wind of pleadings and of preparations. Each of 
us — Catherine Rooker, Mary Johns, and I — asked 
the trip as a graduating gift; for we expected our 
diplomas in June, and hoped to enter St. Hilda's 
College the following September; and, after some 
family councils, permission was granted. Aunt 
Margaret had spent several summers abroad, and 
had visited France and Italy only the winter before; 
so, as she herself said, she was really never un- 
packed, and could easily be ready as soon as we 
were. 

If classes had not kept on, and if examinations 
had not stared us in the face, we never could 
have waited for the time appointed for starting. 
Arrangements were left to Aunt Margaret; and, 
as it was late when our plans were made, we had 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

some difficulty in getting suitable accommodations. 
But, finally, we were booked to leave New York 
July 10, on the Cunarder Helvetia, not a very large 
boat, but a very steady one, — a quality which 
we learned to appreciate later. 

In the meantime we talked of nothing but our 
trip. We packed and unpacked till we were worn 
out. Aunt Margaret urged us to lighten baggage 
as much as possible; and when it was time to 
start, we made a final inventory, so that there 
would be no duplicates in the way of things to 
be used in common. Bach one of us had a blessed 
candle and a bottle of holy water in her trunk; 
but no objection was made to these. And the 
trunks were strapped, labelled, and marked with 
our cabin number the night before the "good-byes." 

We left home at noon on Monday, and it was 
hard to part from dear ones. Our parents and 
hosts of friends and relatives were at the station 
to see us off, and we promised more letters and 
post-cards than we could possibly write if we did 
nothing but write all day. There was a queer 
sinking of our hearts — I know mine went way 
down — when the train started and we waved a last 
good-bye to our parents and friends. Perhaps we 
might never see them again. 

We were glad of a distraction just then, and 
duly exclaimed and aided in the search as Mary 
Johns began to unpack her suit-case in the hope 
of finding her pocketbook. Aunt Margaret came 
to the rescue by handing- over the missing article 

2 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

which she had picked up from the bench in the 
railway station, where its absent-minded owner 
had carelessly placed it. 

Our trip to New York was pleasant, if unevent- 
ful; and nine o'clock Tuesday morning found us 
boarding the Helvetia, delighted with ourselves 
and the world in general. Following Aunt Mar- 
garet's directions, we quickly caught a glimpse 
of our staterooms, which were outside rooms and 
opposite to each other. There were our trunks; 
and we noted, with a queer swelling of the throat, 
that flowers and fruit, confectionery and reading 
matter had been provided by the thoughtfulness 
of the dear ones at home. 

Having gotten our bearings, we went up on 
deck and watched with all the eagerness of inex- 
perience the busy scene before us. People were 
coming on board; trunks were arriving on the 
dock; the ship's officers were everywhere in evi- 
dence; bell-boys were running about; cooks with 
white caps and aprons lounged near the gang- 
planks, up which were being wheeled marvellous 
amounts of gleaming fish, great sides of beef and 
mutton, boxes of poultry, crates of fruits and 
vegetables. We were a part of all the excitement; 
and, as we looked at the crowds beyond the gates 
waiting for the last word of greeting, the last sign 
of recognition, we exchanged theories as to the 
life-stories going on around us. 

Ten o'clock the signal rang out. The gang- 
planks were drawn in, there was a quiver of the 

3 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

boat, a pause, and then we moved slowly out, the 
water gradually widening between us and the 
watching crowds. We were off for Europe, and — 
we were homesick. But Aunt Margaret inter- 
rupted our thoughts by telling us that she was 
going to initiate us into the ways of sea-travelling. 
First, we went to the upper salon, where there 
were letters and telegrams for each one of us. 
We eagerly looked for home news, though we 
knew the letters must have left home before we 
did. In disconnected little exclamations, we im- 
parted to one another the contents of our letters; 
and, with Aunt Margaret as guide, we hurried 
to the library to get some post-cards ready for 
the pilot's boat. So engrossed were we with our 
home messages that we missed all the river sights, 
getting out on deck only in time to see the fort 
at the harbor entrance, and to watch the pilot 
get into his tiny launch and steam toward the 
city, while we steered our course for the open sea. 
It was a beautiful day, blue and gray, — but a 
soft gray with warmth in it; and I thought 
the boat was moving on in the heart of a great 
opal. 

Next on the programme was to see the deck- 
steward and arrange for chairs. We were begin- 
ning to feel more at home, so I went to the cabin 
to unstrap our rugs and dispose of what we had 
wrapped up in them. Then I sent a bell-boy up 
with them to the deck, where Aunt Margaret had 
won over the steward to give us a lovely, sheltered 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

spot. Seats at the table were next secured, and 
then we were delightfully settled for eleven days 
of restful travel. 

The first afternoon we took a survey of the 
boat and its resources for diversion. There were 
few young people on board, but we were a host 
in ourselves, and soon knew all whom we cared 
to meet. The captain's headquarters were inviting; 
and we found the captain ready — for the sake, 
perhaps, of his daughter in England, who, he 
said, was about our age — to answer our numerous 
questions. He let us feed his canary, and allowed 
us even to make friends with Ju Ju, the cat. 

In making the rounds, we learned that there 
were four hundred steerage passengers on board — 
Austrians and Italians, — and it was with real 
interest, not mere curiosity, that we watched them 
as they appeared on the lower deck. They did not 
seem to mind our taking photographs of them, 
and we took several of a poor little Italian mother 
and her two children. She was evidently in the 
worst stages of consumption, and her husband was 
taking her home as a last hope. But even the 
warmth and sunshine of Italy can not restore what 
was lost in the dark, sunless tenement room of 
the East Side in New York. 

Every evening there was music among the 
Italians, and such charming voices as some of them 
had! They would gather in the shadow of the 
cabin, and on request — a request supplemented 
with small coins — one among them would start 

5 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

"Santa Lucia" or " Finiculi, Finicula," the rest 
joining in lustily. They seemed very happy; and, 
judging from the laughter which greeted sotto voce 
remarks and asides made at the expense of their 
audience, they got quite as much pleasure and 
amusement out of us as we did out of them. 

The voyage was very smooth; so everyone 
appeared at table, and the bill of fare offered would 
have done for a puzzle paper. Mary Johns said 
she believed in research work, so she religiously 
picked out the dishes whose names conveyed no 
idea to her of what she was to get; and when she 
found that " cotelettes Perigourdine " was a mutton 
chop with a paper frill on it, and that " minced 
collops" was plain hash, she declared in favor of 
curried prawns, anchovy toast, caviare sandwiches, 
pigeon compote, soubise, and kromskies. Three 
meals a day, with tea or bouillon and wafers at 
ten and four, was the regular order; and the demand 
was generally equal to the supply, for the sea 
air gives one a good appetite. 

We found no little instruction and pleasure in 
studying the charts, maps and the ship's log, 
which were posted in the salon; and it was a 
delight to us to go up to the little cabin occupied 
by the operator of the wireless telegragh apparatus 
installed on the Helvetia. The operator was a young 
man from Ireland, and he took much pains to 
explain the system to us. The second day out, we 
sent to our dear ones a joint message, over which 
we were much elated; for we felt that we were 

6 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

the first from our little home town to send a wireless 
message there. It was wonderful to see the charts 
and diagrams in the telegraph room. The operator 
knew where all the great liners should be at a 
given date and hour, and as our voyage progressed 
we received messages from many of them. 

Through the courtesy of Captain Naylor, an 
officer took our party down to the steerage. Every- 
thing was perfectly clean, but it was damp and 
crowded and gloomy. How much we have to be 
thankful for! We also went down to the engine- 
room, nine feet below sea level. There we saw 
the stokers shovelling coal into the furnaces. The 
time of their labor is called a watch, and is four 
hours, when they are replaced and allowed to rest 
eight hours; from which one gets an idea of how 
hard the work is. The thought that came to me 
was how dreadful Purgatory must be. The order 
of the ship was most striking, and we could under- 
stand the pride of the officers and the crew in their 
boat. Everything was almost as clean as at St. 
Rose's. 

The days were perfect. We sat in our steamer- 
chairs for hours at a time and read, or listened 
to Aunt Margaret as she told us some of the places 
we were going to visit and some of the wonders 
we were to see. There was a restful music over 
everything; we didn't hear the sound of the sea 
so much as we felt it. None of us were fine singers, 
but several times when some attraction had drawn 
most of the people from the deck, we sang softly, 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

to the rhythm of the waves, the dear old hymn: 

Ave Sanctis sima, 
We lift our souls to thee! 

Or a pro nobis, 
'Tis nightfall on the sea. 

Ora pro nobis, 
The waves must rock our sleep. 

Ora, Mater, ora, 
Star of the deep! 

We did not take part in many of the games, 
but it was quite amusing to watch old men playing 
quoits and old ladies trying to play shuffleboard. 
There was one man — he must have weighed three 
hundred — who never could get the ring on the 
bar, but he played every day; and there was a 
boy who cheated in shuffleboard every time he 
got a chance. As we watched the people play, 
we discussed the matter, and decided that in play 
one shows his real character more plainly than at 
other times. 

In the evenings there were card parties and 
musical gatherings; but the quiet of the sky and 
the sea and the charm of the twilight hour were 
more inviting to us. The sunsets were gorgeous. 
Like a great Host, the red, glowing disk would 
hang over a cloud-altar. The white wake of our 
boat seemed a pathway to the west; and, with 
spray as incense, it was not hard to imagine that 
it was God's benediction hour, and that He at the 
close of day was blessing the sea, and blessing 
us, who more than ever felt His nearness. 

When the night had closed in around us, we 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

went to our cabin, where we said our Rosary 
together, and then went to rest; realizing each 
night that we were another day nearer our destina- 
tion, another day farther from home, but always 
near to Him who has us in His keeping. 




II. 



N the morning of the 21st field glasses 
were in evidence; for we were nearing 
the Strait of Gibraltar, and land was 
visible on both sides of us, — Portugal 
and Africa. The first object that met our gaze 
as we turned our glasses toward Cape St. Vincent 
was a light-house, while close beside it rose a 
monastery. And if one helped vessels to a safe 
harbor, Aunt Margaret said, so did the other; 
for the monastery light led souls to God. What 
meditations on eternity the monks there must 
have made, as they looked out over the vast 
waters day after day and year after year! Soon 
we were in the Strait, with the land of so many 
of our castles plainly in sight. We had read over 
and over all that our guidebook had to say about 
Gibraltar (which was little), and had rehearsed 
what we remembered of it from our geography 
days (which was less) ; so were altogether open 
to impressions. We rather favored the legend 
which gave the name ''Pillars of Hercules" to the 
great sentinel rocks standing guard at this southern 
"meeting of the waters" — the Mediterranean and 
the Atlantic. 

Soon we were in the harbor, with Gibraltar 
towering from twelve to fourteen hundred feet 
before us, Algeciras at our left, and back of us, 
in hazy distance, Africa. Here we received our 

10 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

first impressions of a foreign land and foreign 
people, and partially realized that we were three 
thousand miles from home. The boat anchored 
about three-fourths of a mile from the pier; and 
as we waited to board the lighter, which was to 
take us to land, we found much to interest us. 
Around us were boats flying flags of many lands. 
A German war- vessel, queer Spanish boats — we 
thought they must surely be "galleons," — Moorish 
craft, English and Italian merchant ships, and a 
trim American yacht, were close neighbors to the 
Helvetia. In the distance, the city built against 
the rocky bluff, with white, pink, blue and cream- 
colored stucco houses and tiled roofs, looked for 
all the world like a post-card town. As we puffed 
toward the great English fort, we felt as if we were 
living a page out of a gorgeously colored story-book. 
This feeling of unreality did not leave us as we 
walked, or rather ran, up the pier to where a row 
of queer little carriages was waiting. It was a 
case of "first come, first served"; and as we had 
but a short time to spend on shore, every one 
wanted to ride and to see as much as possible. 
The carriages were small, square-looking little 
affairs, with dingy white curtains; and vehicles, 
as well as the small horses, conveyed an idea of 
age. 

Just at the city gates is the market-place, and 
here the post-card people became a part of a 
swiftly moving picture. English soldiers in khaki 
uniforms — much to the disappointment of Mary 

ii 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Johns, who wanted to see a real "redcoat," — 
Spanish senors in white and sombreros, sefioritas 
also in white and wearing mantillas, fruit-sellers 
and flower-venders ("straight out of 'Carmen,'" 
Catherine declared); tall, bronzed Moors, wearing 
light tunics, yellow slippers and red turbans; 
peddlers of mixed race ; Turkish and Jewish traders ; 
Irish, English, Portuguese and Dutch merchants, 
were congregated in and about the market, which 
was held in low buildings and stalls on both sides 
of the roadway. There was a wealth of color and 
sound, and the glimpses we got as we drove by 
through a Babel of languages were most attractive; 
but time forbade our stopping, so we passed into 
the city, through one of the great arched gateways. 
We were in the military stronghold of the English, 
and soldiers were everywhere. 

We drove at once to the church, and had a 
glimpse of life in this quaint town as we rode 
through the narrow, stone-paved streets. In the 
British parts, everything was military-looking and 
clean. Not so clean, but decidedly more pictu- 
resque, were the Spanish parts. To the tourist, 
Gibraltar stands for all that he sees in his brief 
stay on shore, even when he strays, if time allows, 
across the sandy strip of neutral territory to the 
north and into the Spanish town adjoining. We 
were amused to see small donkeys, carrying huge 
panniers of fruit, fish, coal, or with kegs of water, 
picking their steps down the narrow lanes and 
through the crooked, hilly streets. There are stair- 

12 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

ways in all directions, and roof-gardens in most 
unexpected places ; for so irregularly are the houses 
built that a roof-garden of one dwelling serves as 
a side garden, level with the ground-floor of the 
neighboring house. We "took in" the shops on 
our way; and it was amusing to note the signs, 
half English, half Spanish. It seemed good to 
meet English ladies, evidently the wives of the 
officers stationed at Gibraltar; and their modish 
white linen gowns and white parasols struck a 
pleasantly familiar note. 

Just as soon as we stepped into the vestibule of 
the church, we were at home; for there at the 
entrance was the calendar of the League of the 
Sacred Heart, and at once our thoughts flew back 
to St. Rose's, where, at our last visit, we had marked 
on the "intention" card our petition for a safe 
journey. Entering the church, we knelt in thanks- 
giving for the privilege, and then looked around.. 
The organ was near the altar, and here we saw 
for the first time the numerous side chapels which 
mark the churches of Europe. A special altar was 
used for Requiem Masses, and was of black marble. 
Over it was a statue, also in black marble, of Our 
Lady of Sorrows, a gold sword through her heart, 
and wearing a black cope and veil. Mary Johns 
was the first to notice the open confessionals; and 
was about to ask Aunt Margaret about them, when 
we were summoned by her to meet an English 
priest whom she had accosted, in order to secure 
four Masses in lieu of the four we should have to 

13 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

miss the next day. The clergyman was interested 
in us as Americans, and Catherine declared that 
he looked disappointed when he found that we 
dressed and acted in a wholly civilized manner. 

Cheered by our brief visit to the church, we made 
a hurried trip through the fortifications, going up 
four hundred feet, through tunnels cut in the 
solid rock and fortified at intervals of twelve yards 
by guns pointing across the Strait. Catherine, 
thanks to Aunt Margaret's questions, told us much 
of the early history of Gibraltar, the "Calpe" of 
the Greeks. She directed our gaze through a 
"porthole" toward Ceuto, the point opposite 
Gibraltar, and said it was fourteen miles across. 
Mary insisted that the guide-book was wrong, or 
that Catherine had misread it, — that she should 
have said the path we had covered was fourteen 
miles. By this time Catherine was rather short of 
breath, and we got spasmodic bits of information 
about the Arabs coming in 711, of Spanish conquest 
in 1309, of a return to power of the Moors in 1333, 
of their fall in 1492, and so on, until the English 
and the Dutch came to have a share in the history 
of the great rocky promontory. Tired in mind 
and feet, we sat down near an opening, from which 
we had a splendid view of the harbor; also of 
the stretch of land between the English and Spanish 
possessions, — a stretch known as neutral ground; 
and, not far away, we saw the cemetery, the only 
really neutral ground in this great world of ours. 
As this sandy strip of land is level with the sea, 

14 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

burials are all above ground in stone compartments. 

Standing near us, as we rested, was a young 
soldier, as still as the rock back of him. Mary 
remarked in an undertone that he was a typical 
English soldier, if only he wore a red coat, adding 
that she felt sure his name was Tommy Atkins; 
whereupon Aunt Margaret made an excuse to ask 
the soldier a question. His hand went up in salute, 
and he answered in the soft, delicious accent of 
Cork. Before we left him, Mary found out that 
his name was Michael O'Brien, and that he had no 
burning desire to wear a red coat; further, that 
he was wearing the khaki uniform only long enough 
to get means to bring himself and his mother to 
the United States. 

After this blow to Mary 's powers of divination, 
we silently made our way out of the winding tunnel ; 
and, warned by our driver who was waiting, that 
we had very little time to spare, we bade him stop 
at a curio shop, where we had our first experience 
in a sliding scale of prices, articles offered at five 
shillings finally selling for two! We were anxious 
to visit the Loretto Convent, but it was out of the 
question. On our way to the pier we took in 
the Alameda Garden, and here met several per- 
sistent peddlers. One of them must have seen 
a gleam of desire in Catherine's eyes; for he fol- 
lowed our carriage, displaying a lovely black 
spangled net fichu. " Wouldn 't that set off Jeanie 's 
dark hair and eyes?" whispered Catherine, refer- 
ring to a brunette beauty of our schooldays. And 

15 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

though she had whispered the words, the Spaniard 
had caught them and said: "You desire it for 
Jeanie; yes, Jeanie desire it also." And he nearly 
made us purchase the lace to get rid of him. On 
our drive we saw poplars, pepper trees, ilex, dwarf 
palms, olive, almond, orange and lemon trees; 
and in the well-kept park there were many flowers 
that one loves to see in what we have come to 
call at home an old-fashioned garden. One of 
the gardeners delighted us with a bunch of varied 
posies, which we were sorry not to have had before 
we visited the church. 

At the pier we supplied ourselves with the red- 
dest and sweetest of strawberries, resting on green 
aromatic leaves, which the Moor who sold them 
to us said he had brought over that morning from 
Morocco. The Moors go across to the African 
side at night, returning in the morning, as the 
gates of the city are closed at a set hour, and only 
those with permits are allowed inside. These 
permits are not easily obtained, nor are they given 
for an indefinite period; artists, we were informed 
must have a special permit to sketch, and even 
regular residents are licensed. 

As we reached the lighter, which was scheduled 
to leave in five minutes, Catherine thought she 
would use the time and her kodak to secure a 
picture of our noble-looking strawberry vender; 
but he turned rather angrily away, to the amuse- 
ment of the motley crowd gathered on the pier, 
as well as of Mary Johns. Seeing this, Catherine 

16 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

whispered as we embarked, "Mary Johns, if you 
ever say 'strawberry Moor' to me, I'll call you 
'Tommy Atkins'; so there!" 

In half an hour we were on board the Helvetia 
and steaming out into the Mediterranean. Such 
a beautiful sea! Opals and diamonds, sapphires 
and turquoises, all breaking into sounds that are 
colors and colors that are sounds! It didn't seem 
like the ancient history of our schooldays when 
we talked of the wars that were waged on those 
waters, of the heroes of antiquity who sailed their 
length and breadth, and of Cleopatra crossing it 
on her way to the court of the Caesars. Then we 
remembered that the Apostles who brought Christ 's 
teaching to Rome must have sailed on the Med- 
iterranean, and that the sea-path from Europe 
to the Holy Land must be marked with the bones 
of numberless Crusaders. 



17 



W< 



III. 



HEN the sun went down into the 
sea on Tuesday evening, we were within 
sight of Ischia and of Italy; and 
when, two hours later, we entered the 
Bay of Naples, the starlight touching the ripples 
with points of silver, the city against the dark 
heights starred with lights, we forgot that the 
Helvetia had taken unto herself sundry alto- 
gether superfluous barnacles, thus delaying our 
arrival several hours; we simply gazed spell- 
bound at the fairy-land and fairy-sea. Almost 
before we were anchored, and before the post 
and dispatch bags were brought on board, the 
steamer was surrounded by small boats, bearing 
Neapolitan young men and girls, who sang to 
the accompaniment of guitars, while hats were 
held up for coins. The tender was drawn into 
place, the rope stairway let down; but there 
was another delay, for the health officers had first 
to board the vessel and make out a " Bill of Health." 
While we waited, the music and the rippling 
and plashing of water, as the oars of the little 
boats around us dipped rhythmically, the mur- 
mur of voices, the gleaming lights from the city, — 
all cast a spell of silence over us. Toward the 
stern of our liner we noticed a long, flat boat, 
and as we looked a form was let down, and swiftly 
the rowers moved to the landing. An Italian 

18 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

who had been ill all the voyage, and who had hoped 
to renew his health in his beloved land, had passed 
away down in the steerage just before the lights 
of Naples gleamed out before us, and his body 
had been quietly sent ashore. An American 
priest who had been called to attend the sick 
man whispered this to Aunt Margaret, just as the 
signal was given to board the lighter. The poor 
Neapolitan was home at last. 

In a few moments we were at the pier, and by 
some magic our party was not delayed at the 
dogana (the custom-house), but allowed to pass 
with our hand-baggage to the plaza, where carriages 
were waiting. But before we were well out of 
the station, we recalled all that we had heard 
of the lazzaroni; for a small army besieged us, 
— men, women and children in piteous tones begged 
for coins, even a centime. Cripples, blind men, 
deformed children, pleaded in soft Italian; some 
pointed silently to an empty sleeve or to a wooden 
leg. Mary was the first to open her purse; but 
Aunt Margaret reminded us of the arrangement 
she had made, — namely, that she was to be treasurer 
and general disburser, at least in Italy. By this 
time, Catherine had reached a delightfully romantic- 
looking driver, into whose carriage she stepped; 
and we, only too glad to get away from the motley 
crowd, followed, notwithstanding her whispered 
"Isn't he splendid looking? I just know he is a 
brigand!" 

It was nearly midnight, when, comfortably 

19 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

settled in a lovely suite of rooms at the Victoria 
Hotel, we knelt at the low, open windows and 
said our Rosary and night prayers, looking up 
at the starry Italian sky that smiled down over 
the Bay of Naples. Wednesday morning we 
were out bright and early to find a church, 
which, as there are three hundred in Naples, we 
knew would not be difficult. Walking along the 
Largo della Vittoria, we encountered several flocks 
of goats. In some parts of the city, these milk 
furnishers are driven into the houses and even 
up to the top floors of apartment buildings. 

On our return to the hotel we found that the 
party, to the edge of which we belonged, had 
arranged a visit to Pompeii for the day; so a 
hasty breakfast of rolls, butter made from goats' 
milk, and coffee was in order. We went by car- 
riage, which gave us a good view of the old part 
of the city, that being, of course, the most attractive 
to tourists, and we certainly saw sights. The 
houses present a rather forbidding appearance, 
as there are no porches and the small windows 
are high up; but as one passes through the narrow 
streets, one catches glimpses through arched door- 
ways of beautiful courts, where flowers and foun- 
tains are to be seen. As Mary expressed it, the 
fronts of the houses are in the back. At the en- 
trances, small traders and specimens of the laz- 
zaroni congregate; everywhere are fruit stands 
and' dispensers of cool drinks, — lemon and orange 
syrups cooled in tubs of snow. Donkeys, laden 

20 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

from neck to tail, thread their way through the 
lanes and streets; and at every step one is be- 
sieged by venders of post-cards, really beautiful 
ones, and souvenirs of Naples in the way of cameos 
and mosaics, ornaments of coral and tortoise shell, 
and articles fashioned of lava. We passed through 
Portici, Torre del Greco and Torre dell' Annun- 
ziata, — towns between Naples and Pompeii; but 
they are so close together that the impression 
was of one long, very hot street. The Neapol- 
itans certainly live out of doors. Family groups 
sat at the doorways eating; small children, scantily 
clothed, were everywhere, running in and out 
the lines of macaroni drying in the sun. We 
saw Italians manipulating this, their favorite 
food; and we saw also where a modern Murillo 
might get models for pictures, such as the Spanish 
painter 's famous beggar-boys. 

On street corners, over doorways, in the shops 
and in the homes, little shrines were to be seen, 
decked with gay colors and tiny lamps or tapers. 
We were soon reminded that it was the vigil of 
the feast of St. Anne, for whom the Neapolitans 
must have a warm affection. Great preparations 
were in progress for the celebration: arches of 
bright-colored fabrics, studded with receptacles 
for little lamps, were being erected, and placards 
bearing invocations to good St. Anne were tacked 
to houses and posts. 

It was lunch time when we reached Pompeii, 
and a half hour at the Hotel Suisse was profitably 

21 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

and pleasurably employed. Here we had our first 
glimpse of the sort of American travellers who 
bring discredit on all Americans. The courteous 
Italians present smiled as one would at a rude 
child, and we agreed with Aunt Margaret when 
she said that nowhere in the United States would 
foreigners comport themselves in such a manner 
in a public place. 

Immediately after lunch our guide took us 
to the wonderful city of the dead. Catherine 
supplemented the guide 's comments, for she carried 
the Baedeker. A weird feeling comes over one 
in going through an unoccupied house; and the 
same emotion, intensified, is felt in passing along 
the lava-paved narrow streets, where deep wagon- 
rust showed that once upon a time there was 
no lack of life. The stone sidewalks, two feet 
above the roadway, and not more than three 
feet wide, gave back the sound of our footfalls; 
but otherwise it was a city of silence. The houses 
were most interesting, and to pass through one 
with its vestibule, atrium, or court, music-room, 
dining-room, marble baths, bedrooms, kitchen, 
wine cellar and garden, was to learn much of the 
people, of their mode of living and of their love 
for the beautiful. Mosaics, carvings and frescoes 
were an object-lesson in art. Over it all, and 
back of it all, was Vesuvius, — Vesuvius, the de- 
stroyer, now peaceful as the bay in front of it, 
a thin wreath of smoke, a pipe of peace, marking 
the crater. 

22 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

The house of Glaueus, of course, brought to 
our minds blind Nydia; and the ruins of a temple 
that we passed marked the place, we felt sure, 
where the wicked Arbaces met his death. To 
think that this city had been shaken to its foun- 
dations, and with its 30,000 inhabitants buried 
under ten to twenty feet of lava! Surely it was 
a great tomb. In the museum at Pompeii, and 
in that of Naples, we saw skeletons, whose very 
attitude showed the suddenness of their summons; 
and in splendid preservation were relics of those 
days of pagan life and luxury: jewelry, combs, 
curling irons, mirrors of metal, perfume jars, 
statues, bronzes, surgical instruments, cooking 
utensils; pickle and olive jars, retaining fruits 
seemingly in good condition: dried nuts, dates, 
figs, and loaves of bread. To see these evidences 
of the sharp, unexpected end of things for the 
old Pompeiian lovers of life, made one realize the 
dreadful import of those words of the Scriptures 
which picture the last coming of the Son of God: 
"The day of the Lord shall come as a thief, in 
which the heavens shall pass away with great 
violence; and the elements shall be dissolved with 
heat, and the earth and the works that are in it 
shall be burned up." 

The drive back to Naples was a quiet one. We 
were tired, and we were thinking of all we had 
seen. Mary Johns looked so solemn, as she sat 
watching for glimpses of the bay which flashed 
out on our left, here and there, between villas and 

23 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

groups of houses, that Catherine whispered: "A 
lira for your thoughts." And the strain of weari- 
ness and of emotion was broken for us all when 
Mary replied seriously : " I was thinking how much 
worse it would be if I had as many feet as a cen- 
tipede." And in this sentiment we all shared; 
for the heat and the stone pavements and the 
hours of standing and walking had made us un- 
comfortably conscious of our feet. 

We forgot all fatigue, however, when our party 
stopped in the Piazza San Gennaro, and the 
cathedral, with its precious relic of St. Januarius 
rose before us. Here Catherine, with her Baed- 
eker, and, better still, Aunt Margaret, with her 
knowledge and experience, explained everything 
of interest. The great church, begun in 1272, 
rebuilt in 1456, and partially altered and restored 
in the eighteenth century, is most impressive, 
with its Gothic vaulting, wonderful ceiling paint- 
ings, and frescoed lateral walls. Of course there 
were no pews; rush-bottomed chairs and light 
prie-dieus were grouped here and there, as is 
the custom in all the churches of Italy. There 
are always attendants, ready at a sign to place 
a kneeling bench and chair for one, for which 
service a small offering is expected. 

The special attraction for all was the chapel 
of St. Januarius, entered through magnificent large 
brazen doors. The chapel, a small church in itself, 
in the form of a Greek cross, is a glory of gold and 
marble. It contains forty-two columns of broca- 

24 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

tello, with eight altars and numerous paintings, 
most of them illustrating the life of St. Januarius. 
In the tabernacle of the high altar are preserved 
two vessels containing the blood of the martyr, 
who suffered under Diocletian, and it is this blood 
which liquifies three times annually, as is attested 
by all Naples. We went down to the crypt or 
confessio, where we knelt at the tomb of the saint. 
In one of the chapels we had the privilege of kissing 
a relic of St. Anne, exposed for the pious vener- 
ation of the faithful. Among the tombs, we noted 
those of St. Asprenas, Charles I. of Anjou, Charles 
Martel, Pope Innocent IV., Andreas, King of 
Hungary, Pope Innocent XII., and several car- 
dinals and archbishops. Conspicuous among the 
treasures of the cathedral are forty -five busts 
of silver, representing the patron saints of the 
city. An "Assumption," by Perugino, and an 
"Adoration of the Angels" by Domenichino were 
recorded first in our list of great paintings seen. 
The church of San Domenico Maggiore, which 
was next visited, is wonderfully imposing with 
its twenty-seven chapels, rich altars, and stately 
columns. It was to the chapel of the Crucifixion 
that we went first. On the lower part of the altar 
is pictured in relief that miracle recorded in the 
life of St. Thomas of Aquin, which tells that Our 
Lord spoke to him from the cross, saying, "Thou 
hast written well of Me, Thomas. What wouldst 
thou have?" to which the saint, replied: "Nothing 
else than Thyself, Lord." This chapel contains the 

25 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

tombs of several of the family of St. Thomas; 
it is moreover the last resting-place of many of 
the princes of the house of Aragon. The Marchese 
di Pescara, the husband of Vittoria Colonna, is 
also buried here. In the adjacent monastery, the 
cell and lecture room of St. Thomas may still be 
seen, but they are used as municipal offices. Our 
day's sight-seeing closed with a glimpse of the 
church of Saint Severino, and more interesting 
to us than the wealth of monuments it contains 
was the adjoining monastery, with its splendid 
cloisters, in the centre of which is a plane-tree said 
to have been planted by St. Benedict. 

It seemed good to get to our rooms, where we 
rested a while before dinner, comparing notes and 
trying to reduce our impressions to order. Catherine 
quoted Shelley, who, after a day in Naples, said his 
brain was like the portfolio of an architect, or a 
print shop; Mary declared she felt like a Browning 
poem. I added as my quota that I had seen only 
a part of Naples, and yet was ready to die; and 
dear Aunt Margaret, always our point of rest, 
led the way to dinner, promising us that we'd 
all feel better after that. We did feel rested, and 
had a delightful evening looking out over the 
bay, watching the Neapolitans walking or driving 
along the Via Partenope. 

Naples is a noisy city at night. Every one seems 
to be out of doors until late. Those who drive, 
crack their whips and race their horses recklessly, 
till one longs for an officer of the Humane Society 

26 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

to appear on the scene; but we were told later 
that the noisy whips do not touch the horses, and 
that the animals are not badly treated at all. 
Our Rosary and night prayers over, we went to 
bed thinking that Naples was very beautiful, but 
very far from the best land on earth. 

The next day we assisted at Mass at the church 
of St. Francesco di Paola, which is truly beautiful, 
with a dome supported by thirty-two Corinthian 
columns of marble and a high altar inlaid with 
jasper and lapis lazuli. Immediately after, we had 
breakfast and then started in rowboats to meet 
the small steamer which was to take us to Capri. 
This larger boat was in deep water, and while we 
waited for passengers, men and boys swam around 
in the sapphire waters begging for coins, for which, 
when they were thrown into the bay, they dived. 
We passed Sorrento, where the home of Marion 
Crawford was pointed out. Before landing on the 
Island of Capri, we entered the Blue Grotto. For 
this we had to take rowboats, and three in a boat, 
stoop low while we passed in to the wonderful 
cavern, one hundred feet long by one hundred and 
seventy-five feet wide and forty feet high; it is 
like a bit of blue sky hardened into stone. The 
water is a metallic blue, and the hand trailed in 
it looks ghastly, while the drops from the oars 
are like sapphires and diamonds. 

Having returned to the steamer, we landed at 
Capri and had luncheon on the veranda of a hotel 
on the heights overlooking the bay. It was all 

27 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

very romantic. Oysters, such as Lucullus enjoyed 
at his banquets, fruits from the orchards which 
supplied the board of Caesar Augustus, wine the 
flavor of which Virgil sang, olives from trees beneath 
which Tasso walked, — and yet, we would have 
exchanged them all for a glass of cold, clear water! 
It was another case of " Water, water, everywhere, 
and not a drop to drink." We encountered, of course, 
the usual number of venders of corals, shells, etc., 
and so eager were the women to dispose of their 
goods that Mary offered a nominal price for a black- 
eyed Caprian baby, which the mother immediately 
agreed upon. But we finally made her realize 
that Mary was not really anxious for a souvenir 
of so valuable a nature, and we saw to it that 
the prospective purchaser walked ahead of us 
till we reached the steamer for our return to 
Naples. 

Friday, we were to leave for Rome at noon, so 
but half a day remained for sight-seeing, and of 
course we had to visit the National Museum. 
Here we saw the famous Farnese collection from 
Rome and Parma, and the invaluable treasures 
of Herculaneum, Pompeii, Statinae and Cumse. We 
had not yet learned how to get the best out of 
such collections, so we left the museum with rather 
a confused impression of ancient frescoes, terra- 
cottas, pottery, bronzes, marbles, mosaics, antique 
paintings, rare inscriptions, engravings and world- 
known pictures, among them masterpieces by 
Correggio, Bellini, Andrea del Sarto, Titian, Michael 

28 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Angelo, Botticelli, Raphael, and others of the 
great painters. 

We had seen Naples, the picturesque; we were 
going to Rome, and Hope, for the time, took posses- 
sion of us. But Memory is patient and is willing 
to wait: she knows that always she will come into 
her own. 



29 



IV. 



UR first railway experience in Italy was 
fm\ not altogether pleasant. We did not 
X^l travel in a train de luxe; the train dis- 
patcher (without much dispatch, how- 
ever) rang a bell that sounded like a school-bell, 
whereupon the engine pulled itself off with very 
audible groans. There were frequent and long 
stops, and it took us between six and seven hours 
to reach Rome. The weather was torrid, and 
water not to be had. Mary declared that "See 
Naples and die" had a new meaning to her, for 
she felt that she'd never live to see Rome. But 
she did, and so did the rest of us. Despite the 
heat, we had to admire the lovely country through 
which we were passing, where every prominent 
crag held a monastery or a castle, and every inch 
of ground was cultivated. Grape-vines, olive-trees 
and small farms and gardens were close to the 
railway route; while picturesque, rocky hills rose 
as a background, with, here and there, the gleam 
of a lake like a bit of blue sky. Catherine's trouble 
was that she couldn't see both sides at once. Aunt 
Margaret told us all about Monte Cassino, as we 
passed the little town at the foot of the mountain 
which is crowned with the great monaster} 7 founded 
by St. Benedict, and Mar} 7 quoted Longfellow: 
And there, uplifted, like a passing cloud 
That pauses on a mountain summit high, 

30 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Monte Cassino's convent rears its proud 
And venerable walls against the sky. 

Well I remember how on foot I climbed 
The stony pathway leading to its gate; 

Above, the convent bells for Vespers chimed, 
Below, the darkening town grew desolate. 

Well I remember the low arch and dark, 

The courtyard with its well, the terrace wide, 

From which, far down, the valley like a park, 
Veiled in the evening mists, was dim descried. 

The day was dying, and with feeble hands 

Caressed the mountain-tops; the vales between 

Darkened; the rive in the meadow-lands 

Sheathed itself as a sword, and was not seen. 

The silence of the place was like a sleep, 

So full of rest it seemed; each passing tread 

Was a reverberation from the deep 
Recesses of the ages that are dead. 

For, more than thirteen centuries ago, 

Benedict fleeing from the gates of Rome, 

A youth disgusted with its vice and woe, 
Sought in these mountain solitudes a home. 

He founded here his convent and his rule 

Of prayer and work, and counted work as prayer; 

The pen became a clarion, and his school 
Flamed like a beacon in the midnight air. 

At 9:30 we reached Rome, and as we passed 
through the brilliantly lighted station to our 
carriage, it was all like a dream and not a bit like 
what we had pictured to ourselves. We were very 

3i 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

silent as we drove to our hotel in the Via Frattini. 
I do not know what the others were thinking, but 
I kept saying to myself " Rome, Rome, Rome!" 

We needed no one to call us next morning, 
and bright and early we were out looking for a 
church. With more than three hundred and sixty- 
five in the city, we did not have to look far, and 
in a few minutes we found ourselves in the church 
of Sant' Andrea delle Fratte. We assisted at 
Mass, which was being offered at the Blessed Virgin's 
altar. A tablet beside the altar told us that it 
was here Ratisbon was converted. The absence 
of pews in the churches and the going around 
to the various altars at will gives a certain homey 
feeling, — a certain familiarity, that soon won us 
over, but at first it seemed rather disorderly. 
Whenever we visited a church, we first sought 
out the chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, and, 
having paid our loving respects to the Master of 
the house, we then examined the treasures at 
leisure, or at as much leisure as we could spare. 

Our first formal sight-seeing began with St. 
Peter's, of course, — and continued and ended with 
it, I might say, for we went there every day of 
our stay in Rome, and saw it last of all as we drove 
to the station, when we said good-bye to the City 
of the Soul, which, read backward or forward, 
to the Catholic always spells amor, — love. St. 
Peter's! It has been described a thousand times, 
and yet who can explain its magic charm? Aunt 
Margaret had secured as guide Benezio, " a beautiful 

32 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Italian with a grand opera air," as Catherine put 
it; and when we stood in the Piazza di San Pietro, 
and he began to name the points of interest, we 
begged him to be silent and let us look and think 
and feel. 

Before us was the great Piazza with its enclosing 
colonnades, four series of columns, three of passages, 
the middle one large enough for two carriages 
abreast; above them a balustrade with statues 
of a hundred and sixty-two saints. In the centre 
of the piazza rose the obelisk, with its associa- 
tions—Caligula, and the Vatican circus, Sixtus V., 
and the changing panorama that has marked the 
great court of St. Peter's since the obelisk was 
placed there in 1586. As we passed on without 
consulting our Baedeker, Benezio could not restrain 
himself. So Mary had in her notebook that evening 
a story that we had not; for she lingered near one 
of the fountains while the guide told her that the 
monument weighs 320 tons, and that, when it was 
being set up, eight hundred workmen were needed 
to hold the ropes that were used in raising it. 
Perfect silence had been ordered under penalty 
of death. Suddenly the ropes began to give, when 
one of the men, Bresca, a sailor, called out " Pour 
water on the ropes!" This was done and the 
obelisk was drawn into position. As a reward for 
this act, the sailor's family has ever since had the 
privilege of providing the palm branches used on 
Palm Sunday at St. Peter's. 

The great cathedral, the centre of Christianity, 
33 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

is the embodiment of centuries. Thirty years after 
the martyrdom of St. Peter, Anacletus, ordained 
by the Prince of the Apostles, built an oratory to 
mark the site of St. Peter's grave. Over this oratory 
Constantine built a church, though the bones of 
the first Bishop of Rome had been taken for safe 
keeping to the catacombs; but in the days of 
Honorius the body was brought back to the spot 
where it still lies. It was to that old St. Peter's 
that Charlemagne came to be crowned. In the 
fifteenth century the plans for a new St. Peter's 
were begun, and no one visits the great basilica 
to-day without thinking of Bramante and Michael 
Angelo, who had most to do with designing this 
wonderful house of Christian worship. 

Slowly and with full hearts, we mounted the 
steps and entered the portico, which is adorned 
with stucco ornamentation and enriched with 
mosaics. To our right was the Porta Santa, opened 
only in Jubilee years. Raising the heavy leathern 
curtain (most of the churches have these leather 
hangings at the doors, thus keeping heat, dust and 
noise out), we passed in, and we were in a different 
world. 

Standing on the slab of porphyry on which 
emperors formerly were crowned, we looked around 
with awe and as if in a dream. The nave stretches 
between massive pillars, bearing the arching coffered 
and gilded ceiling. Everything is vast, colossal. 
Moving toward the centre altar, under the dome 
and over the crypt of St. Peter, we turned to our 

34 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

right and stopped to kiss the foot of the statue 
of the Apostle, which act symbolizes submission 
to the commands of the Church, as well as venera- 
tion of the saint; and then we knelt at the con- 
fessio, or railing around the entrance to the crypt 
where reposes the body of St. Peter. Over the 
high altar, at which the Pope alone says Mass, 
is a wonderfully beautiful bronze canopy, sup- 
ported by spiral columns, made of metal taken 
from the Pantheon. Ninety-five lamps are kept 
burning around the confessio, the descent to which 
is by a flight of marble steps. To the right of the 
dome is a transept, larger than most churches, 
where the (Ecumenical Council of 1870 held its 
meetings. In the left transept are confessionals 
for ten different languages. 

It would take months to see and understand all 
that St. Peter's presents, with its chapels, relics, 
tombs, statues, mosaics and inscriptions. We 
counted twenty-nine altars. There is no stained 
glass in St. Peter's and the light filters down from 
above. Instead of paintings on canvas, there are 
great copies in mosaic of the world's masterpieces 
of religious art. Everything in and about St. 
Peter's symbolizes that which is enduring. There 
are no stations in the churches in Rome, a visit 
to the basilicas serving instead. In St. Peter's, 
as in the other places of worship, there are no 
pews, and at every hour there are crowds moving 
around in the vast structure. One hears no definite 
sound, but, listening intently, there is a surge — 

35 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

half feeling, half sound — as of the waves of time 
breaking against the Rock that is Peter. It rises 
and falls, till one's heart catches the rhythm, and 
one is very proud and very humble to be a child 
of the Church. We heard Mass in the Choir Chapel 
one day, in the chapel of the Blessed Sacrament 
another, and at St. Peter's tomb in the Crypt, a 
third. If St. Peter's is the heart of the Christian 
world, it surely is the soul of Rome. 

Every day of our stay in the Eternal City was 
a day of pilgrimage. We visited many churches, 
and every one had a spiritual charm for us. The 
chapel of the Children of Mary in the church of 
St. Agnes appealed to us all; adjoining it was the 
small church of Santa Costanza, dating back to 
the time of Constantine. We knelt in Santa Maria 
Maggiore, the Church of Our Lady of the Snows, 
and felt very proud as Benezio pointed to the 
gilded ceiling which was enriched with the first 
gold brought from America; in the confessio are 
preserved the relics of St. Matthew; and here, too, 
are treasured several pieces of the true Manger 
of Our Lord. When we reached San Pietro in 
Vincoli we found that the privilege awaited us of 
kissing the chains of St. Peter, exposed for venera- 
tion on August i st. In the transept to our right 
gleamed Michael Angelo's great statue of Moses, 
to which we paid admiring tribute before leaving 
the church. 

But who could enumerate the treasures of Rome? 
We visited Sant' Agostino, with its tomb of St. 

36 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Monica; Santa Croce, with its precious relics of 
the Passion; Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, that 
beautiful monument of Christian triumph over 
paganism, with its relics of St. Catherine of Siena; 
St. John Lateran, really the cathedral of Rome, 
a wonderful temple as rich in traditions as in art 
and religious treasures, and containing the tomb 
in which the ashes of Leo XIII. will some day 
rest; the church of Santa Prassede, with its sacred 
relics; and that of St. Lorenzo, where repose the 
mortal remains of the saintly Pius IX. On the 
feast of St. Ignatius we heard Mass in the church 
of the Gesu, and received Holy Communion at the 
altar over the tomb of St. Aloysius. After Mass, 
we were conducted through the rooms once occupied 
by the great founder of the Society of Jesus. We 
found our way to Santa Maria in Ara Coeli, which 
is on the site of the Capitoline temple of Juno; 
it is reached by a long flight of steps, and the 
ascent on a warm day gives a special significance 
to the name of the church. St. Helena's tomb is 
in the left transept, and is known as Cappella Santa. 
Our visit to the church of Santa Maria della Con- 
cezione, or dei Cappuccini, was as good as a retreat; 
for, after viewing the various chapels, in one of 
which was Guido Reni's "St. Michael," and, after 
jotting in our note-books the inscription on the 
tomb of the founder of the church, Cardinal Bar- 
berini, Hie jacet pulvis cinis et nihil, we were taken 
to the burial vaults beneath the church. Here, 
walls, ceiling and pillars are decorated with the 

37 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

bones of thousands of departed Capuchins. It 
surely is a place for meditation, though one would 
hardly care for solitude during the exercise. 

The first Sunday in Rome we went up the Scala 
di Spagna, past the house where Keats died, and 
assisted at Benediction in the church of Trinita 
de' Monti on the Pincian Hill. The Madames of 
the Sacred Heart conduct a school in the convent 
adjoining, which we visited, and where we had the 
privilege of walking in the garden where Madame 
Barat often took her recreation, and where Gregory 
XVI. called on her. We also knelt before the 
famous miraculous picture which is kept in a little 
oratory of its own. The religious who showed us 
around was a charming English lady who had spent 
some time in one of the Sacred Heart convents 
near Detroit; so we felt quite at home with her. 
The Pantheon, Santa Maria Rotonda, somehow 
made us think of France and of what we had read 
of the Pantheon in Paris; for in this temple, founded 
in the time of Augustus and a Christian church 
since the seventh century, are the tombs of Victor 
Emmanuel and King Humbert, and at stated 
times the Holy Sacrifice is offered here. Our Blessed 
Mother's royal painter, Raphael, was also laid to 
rest in this church. 

This does not begin to complete the list of 
churches that claimed our interest and our devotion; 
but one would have to write a volume to convey 
the impressions of even ten days in this city of 
shrines. And, we might add, one would need an 

38 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

extra trunk to carry away the souvenirs, pious 
and otherwise, that tempt one in Rome. 

We usually started our day of sight-seeing early. 
Between places of special interest we took in the 
sights by the way, — the shops, for example, which 
we found rather small. All the goods seemed to be 
in the windows; in most cases there was little depth 
to the stores. The streets, piazzas and monuments 
were full of interest; and we found lessons in the 
very inscriptions on the buildings, most of which 
commemorate the generosity of one or other of 
the Sovereign Pontiffs. The Castle Sant' Angelo 
and the bridge over the Tiber leading to it; the 
Fountain of Trevi, into which each of us threw a 
coin with the fond hope of again seeing Rome; 
the Protestant cemetery, where we stood by the 
graves of Keats and Shelley; the Capitol, the 
Forum, the Colosseum, — all, all had the fascination 
of history and romance for us; and we were poets, 
if very tired ones, as we limped to our rooms in 
the hotel each evening, our hearts throbbing with 
emotion. 

Once there, we usually found something to 
relieve the tension, either in a packet of home 
letters or in post-cards to get ready to send. The 
stewardess of our floor furnished us no little amuse- 
ment, and no doubt we did as much for her. The 
first few days we were at the hotel she would in- 
variably present herself before us, as we emerged 
from the bath-room, holding out to us a bill; but, 
finally, we made her understand that we would 

39 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

settle all before we left the hotel. The bath was a 
luxury, for the tubs were of solid marble, — old 
tombs, Catherine declared; over th^m was a 
covering of white linen, and the water was crystal 
clear. Mary's spirits suffered a decided check in 
Rome; and her restlessness was explained, when, 
one evening, after an unusually quiet spell of 
writing, she gravely handed to Aunt Margaret the 
following : 

How doth the busy little flea 

Improve each shining minute 
And hop about so blithe and free 

And bite for all that's in it! 

Our evenings, "the quiet, colored end of day," 
were delightful; we rested, compared notes, talked 
over the affairs of the day, and then slipped through 
the darkness to a near-by little church, San Sil- 
vestre, where there was Perpetual Adoration of the 
Blessed Sacrament. Old men and women were 
there, and priests and students. Little children 
were in and out; they slipped in among the wor- 
shippers and sat with loving familiarity on the 
altar steps looking up at the shining tapers; and 
there we, feeling like little children too, perhaps 
a little bit lonely for the home altars, at the close 
of each day, said our good-night to the Master. 



40 




V. 



EAUTIFUL as were the churches, wonder- 
ful as was the Colosseum with its mem- 
ories of martyrs, insistent as was the 
charm of the City of the Caesars and the 
City of Saints, there was something that appealed 
even more strongly to us: it was — think of it! — 
an audience with the Holy Father. It was a day 
never to be forgotten. Aunt Margaret wore a 
black dress and a black lace mantilla on her head; 
we were all in white, and at the appointed time 
stood at the entrance to the Vatican Palace, laden 
with rosaries, etc., to be blessed, and feeling some- 
what nervous. 

As soon as our party had gathered, we were 
escorted up marble staircases and through vast 
corridors to the Sala Clementina. At every landing 
and doorway stood Papal soldiers in uniforms of 
black and red and yellow, designed by Michael 
Angelo. So still are these Swiss guards that one 
might easily mistake them for statues. Arrived 
in the Clementine Hall, we stood in a half circle 
and waited breathlessly. Soon there was a stir; 
from the door leading to the Pope's apartments 
came two Swiss Guards, then two gold-embroidered 
soldiers, followed by a major domo in black and 
gold, and wearing a black hat with a long, white 
plume; after him walked two more immediate 
attendants, all in red silk; then the Rt. Rev. 

4i 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Mgr. Kennedy, rector of the American College, 
and the Maestro di Camera, Mgr. Bisletti; and, 
last of all, robed in white, the dear Holy Father 
himself. 

All sank to their knees as his Holiness approached. 
Mgr. Kennedy said a few words, to which the Holy 
Father made response; and all the time he was 
talking I kept my eyes fixed on that sad but kindly 
face. I was afraid if I looked away for an instant 
that the scene would vanish. Once I caught a 
glimpse of Mary's rapt face, and tears were stream- 
ing from her eyes; while Catherine, convulsively 
clasping enough rosaries to stock Benziger's, was, 
like myself, in an ecstasy. But this was not all. 
His Holiness made the circuit, presenting his ring 
to be kissed; and each one's confession later on 
told that at least four of those in the Holy Father's 
audience kissed, not only the Fisherman's Ring, 
but the dear hand itself. And the thrill — it was 
like getting first honors, a crown par excellence 
and a gold medal all at once, with the feeling 
afterward of Benediction when the chapel is dark 
and the singing is soft and low! 

After he had said a word to each, Pope Pius X. 
turned to us all once more, gave us a general bless- 
ing, while we held out the articles we had brought 
with us; then, as if by magic, the procession of 
guards and dignitaries re-formed, and he passed 
majestically through the doorway; and we — well, 
everyone gazed and gazed in the direction he had 
taken. And when the spell was broken, everyone 

42 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

was silent, everyone was deeply moved; and as 
we left the great palace of the Popes we felt that 
we had seen a greater than any earthly king or 
emperor. 

This visit was over by noon, but it more than 
filled the day; and not until the next morning 
did we continue our sight-seeing, this time going 
to the Vatican galleries. Here again words serve 
but to repeat what the guide-books tell the tourist. 
The beauty of it all, the wonder of it all, must 
be seen, not once but often, to be appreciated. 
From the first step of the Scala Regia to the last 
room of the Etruscan Museum, one is in a dream. 
There is the great Sistine Chapel, with its beauti- 
fully decorated marble screens, its impressive 
frescoes, its renowned "Last Judgment" by Michael 
Angelo. Think of one chapel — and not a very large 
one at that — containing paintings by Perugino, 
Botticelli, Ghirlandajo, Raphael and Michael An- 
gelo! Farther on, we came to the famous Stanze 
and Logge which immortalize Raphael. Chief of 
these is, of course, the Stanza della Segnatura, 
with its ceiling paintings, under which are the 
Disputa, Parnassus, and the School of Athens. 

The picture gallery of the Vatican, lately en- 
larged and improved by his Holiness Pius X., 
is a monument to the Papacy, and shows that 
the Church has ever been the patron, the conserver 
of art. To understand, even partially, the paintings, 
one must remember history, mythology, and the 
lives and legends of the saints. One could hardly 

43 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

expect fully to grasp the symbolism of some of 
them; for local traditions and quaint bits of folk- 
lore have been embodied in many of the pictures 
by the artists who painted not for posterity, but 
for their own times and their own people. 

St. Sebastian is a favorite subject among Italian 
painters; and standing near a group of tourists 
in the Vatican Gallery, before a picture of the 
martyr, Catherine became interested in a young 
woman, who, looking in vain for the name of the 
picture, turned to a companion and asked if it 
represented Prometheus or William Tell's son. 
The older lady told her that it was St. Sebastian's 
Martyrdom, whereupon she remarked admiringly: 
"Dear! I wish I knew the Bible as well as you 
do!" This incident was duly chronicled in Cath- 
erine's note-book, followed by the philosophic 
remark: "One can't know everything, but one 
should know enough not to let others know how 
little one knows. So there!" To return to the 
Vatican treasures. We spent hours looking at the 
great Raphael tapestries, the priceless collections 
of antiquities, mosaics, sculpture and bronzes; and 
at each step the conviction was more and more 
forced on us that a lifetime would be too short in 
which to see and come to know the art wealth of 
this great palace of the Popes. 

A morning devoted to the Catacombs of St. 
Calixtus, and an afternoon to the Church of St. 
Paul's-without-the- Walls, made a day to be remem- 
bered. At the Catacombs we applied for entrance 

44 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

and a guide; and each of us was supplied with a 
tiny taper for use in the long, narrow, dark under- 
ground passages, where, in tombs, inscriptions and 
paintings, is recorded a wonderful chapter in the 
history of the Church. The darkness, accentuated 
by the nickering tapers, the stillness, the sense of 
mystery which one feels as one gropes through 
the narrow streets in this city of the dead, the 
chill that comes over one after a short stay under- 
ground, — all were part of a memorable experience. 

We had not shaken off the impression of the 
Catacombs, when we visited St. Paul's, but here 
there was beauty and brightness. Everything is 
modern in the great basilica. The vastness of the 
interior is imposing, and one is impressed at once 
by the wealth of marble, alabaster and malachite. 
But the cloisters! Framing a quaint old garden, 
the roof is supported by rows of beautiful marble 
columns, exquisitely carved, some fluted, others 
spirals; all melting into shadowy arches, and all 
speaking of centuries of silence in the sunshine 
and in the shadows. We were like the little boy 
of our first-reader days who wanted each season 
as it came to be the only one. While we were under 
the spell of the cloisters, we thought we had never 
seen anything more impressively beautiful. 

In Rome one is receiving impressions from all 
sides and at all times, so the effect is, perhaps, 
kaleidoscopic; but even the fragments of pictures 
one carries away are worth while. One does not 
soon forget the piazzas, most of them bearing 

45 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

names reminiscent of Rome's better days; the 
religious statues in public places, the quaint little 
shrines, some only a metal bracket, holding a 
statue or picture, before which a tiny lamp flickers; 
the cosmopolitan street crowds, among them priests 
in soutanes and monks wearing their religious 
habits; the names of the parts of the city, one 
recalling the Apostle Peter, a second the maiden 
Tarpeia, another Pancratius, still another Rienzi. 
The very streets are alive with memories. Along 
some of the old winding, narrow ways, every 
thought is of the long ago; and one feels that to-day 
will never dispossess the yesterday that owns the 
dark stone buildings, with their fortress-like fronts, 
small windows set high above the streets, and 
metal-bound doors that look as if made to resist 
even the attacks of Time. 

One doesn't get very far from the Tiber in Rome; 
and while as a river it was distinctly disappoint- 
ing to us, as a stream out of the history and ro- 
mance of the past, it was full of charm. Lean- 
ing over its yellow waters one afternoon, Mary, 
in mild Macaulay fashion, recalled our elocution 
days by reciting: 

Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 

With all the speed ye may; 
I, with two more to help me, 

Will hold the foe in play. 
In yon straight path, a thousand 

May well be stopped by three: 
Now who will stand on either hand, 

And keep the bridge with me? 

46 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

And never to us had the old ballad seemed so 
stirring as there on the bridge, while automobiles 
and carriages were passing in unbroken procession. 
We did not see them: we thought only of — 
How well Horatius kept the bridge 
In the brave days of old. 

There is a charm about even the beggars and 
street-venders in Rome. We found it necessary 
to provide ourselves with an amount of small 
change before venturing out each day; the demands 
are many, and one is alarmed to see how soon a 
handful of coins are spent. But five big centimes 
mean only one penny; so one's caution soon wears 
off, and one's stock of souvenirs, cameos, mosaics, 
and post-cards, etc., increases. 

Speaking of post-cards, we had an amusing 
scene the day before we left Rome. W T e were 
going to drive to the Colosseum in order to see it 
by moonlight, and we stopped at the desk to stamp 
some post-cards. It was a busy moment, and 
one of the clerks hurriedly took up a box from 
behind the desk, opened it, put the cover on hastily 
and was about to return it to its recess, when 
Catherine, who had caught a glimpse of her own 
unmistakable writing, took the box and exposed 
its contents — at least sixty post-cards which we 
had handed in for mailing at different times, and 
for the stamps of which we had paid! There 
followed a dramatic scene in English and Italian; 
and, before it closed, bell-boys, porters, guides and 
the proprietor were on the stage, when, to the 

47 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

sound of apologies and explanations, the Americans 
withdrew in triumph. It was a funny scene, and 
we enjoyed it to the full as we drove to the Colos- 
seum; but there were only grave thoughts and 
feelings of awe when we stepped into the shadows 
of the archways and on into the arena flooded with 
silver light. 

There was a witchery about the play of lights 
and shadows. High up to the east towered the 
walls, and against the tiers and ruins of the arcades 
the moon shone white. Standing there in the 
stillness of the summer night, it was easy to conjure 
up a scene from the long ago. We could see 
emperors, senators, vestal virgins and the multitude 
round about; and there, on the sand, the Christian 
martyrs waiting the signal which would open one 
of the great doorways from which Death was 
ready to spring upon them. 

An early Mass at S. Andrea the next morning, 
a last prayer at the Confessio in St. Peter's, and 
we turned toward the station. Somehow, it was 
not with "sadness of farewell" that we left Rome; 
for part of its charm is the hope that it wakens 
in the hearts of its lovers to come back once more 
to this Niobe of Nations, this City of the Soul. 
But should we never again walk its streets in 
reality, Rome is ours forever, as all best things are, 
in the memory of the heart. 



48 




VI. 



O loath were we to leave Rome that 
we reached the station barely in time 
to board the train before it started; 
and our respect for American railways 
and our admiration for American Pullman cars 
sensibly increased as we walked along the corridor 
of the coach, in which we were locked, until we 
came to a compartment occupied by three pas- 
sengers — a rotund traveller from the Rhine region 
and two little Englishwomen. Here we arranged 
ourselves and our belongings, which included 
individual lunch baskets of woven straw contain- 
ing rolls, chicken, a relish, and a small bottle of 
grape-juice. 

The day was intensely warm; and as a turn 
in the road brought a flood of sun through the 
window at which our Teutonic friend sat, he drew 
the sash curtain, shutting off the sun and the 
glimpses of beautiful Italian scenery that gladdened 
our eyes every now and then. Most of the after- 
noon we stood in the corridor, so as not to lose 
all that the landscape offered, — the olive groves, 
the vineyards, the wayside shrines, the picturesque 
peasants. And even when, later in the day, the 
curtain was drawn back, the large obstruction, 
apparently unconscious of the fact that he was 
interfering with any one's pleasure, did not seem 
to understand Mary's allusions to "total eclipses," 

49 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

or Catherine's suggestive quotation, "Beyond the 
Alps lies Italy." We survived, however; and 
when, according to our guide-book, we reached 
the Stazione Centrale S. Maria Novella, we realized 
that we were in Florence, — Firenze la bella; and 
doubly realized it when we stood at a window in 
our hotel on the Lungarno Amerigo Vespucci and 
looked out upon the Arno. 

Rome, the mistress of the world, seems to have 
part in every page of world-history; but Florence, 
somehow, seems a world in itself, with a wonderful 
history, a wonderful literature, and a wonderful 
flowering of art. All the history and literature we 
had ever learned was called to mind as we passed 
through the streets, visited the churches and 
galleries, and studied the historic monuments every- 
where before us. Here Macchiavelli lived, there 
Dante sat; in that piazza Savonarola died, from 
this pulpit St. Antoninus preached; this was the 
palace of Lorenzo de' Medici, that was the home 
of Galileo; Giotto planned this tower, Donatello 
carved that crucifix. It was bewildering; no guide, 
no guide-book, could keep the impressions distinct. 
But the composite picture was worth while; and 
Florence, like a picture in one of its own beautiful 
frames, is a treasured memory. 

In Florence, as in most of the cities in Europe, 
the cathedral is the heart of activities; naturally, 
then, our first visit was to Santa Maria del Fiore. 
The first church on the site of the Duomo was 
built in 420, and was dedicated under the name 

50 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of St. Salvatore; later it was known as the church 
of St. Reparata. The present structure dates to 
the time of Giotto and his immediate successors. 
It is built of marbles of different colors — white, 
green and red, — and is adorned with statues, bas- 
reliefs, and mosaics in artistic profusion. Entering 
through any of the beautiful carved doorways, 
one feels the awe of the place, and appreciates the 
sentiment expressed by Pope Pius IX., "In St. 
Peter's man thinks, in Santa Maria del Fiore man 
prays." 

The art treasures are not to be described. There 
are frescoes, mosaics, carvings, stained glass, and 
precious marbles. Donatello, Ghirlandajo, Pisano, 
Brunelleschi, Luca della Robbia, Ghiberti, and 
many others are represented here in immortal 
works. We were much interested in a graduated 
dial arranged on the floor of one of the transepts 
of the cathedral by the great mathematician, 
Toscanelli, to determine the time of the summer 
solstice. Giotto's Campanile, " that Lily of Florence 
blossoming in stone" beside the Duomo, and the 
Baptistery across the street, that old octagonal 
church with wonderful doors, "fit to be the gates 
of Paradise," are beyond a mere tourist-student's 
words; only an artist in mind and heart and pen 
could convey an adequate impression of them. 
Catherine registered a resolution to read Ruskin 
again, and Mary wrote the name " Eliza Allen 
Starr" under her notes on the Baptistery. 

No one who gives even a passing notice to the 

5i 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

subjects beloved of the old painters, sculptors, 
and workers in bronze, could fail to see how much 
the Bible, both the Old and the New Testament, 
was a part of the life of the people. They read the 
Bible from carved and painted pages that carried 
the stories with a vividness never to be found in 
the printed leaves. Ruskin's dictum, " the cathedral 
in Amiens is the Bible in stone," might be said of 
Italy in general; for, from the Sistine Chapel in 
the Vatican to the humblest monastery cloister in 
Padua, the favorite subjects of painters and sculptors 
were taken from the Scriptures. 

We had but three full days in Florence; so we 
did, not as Florentines do, but as Americans do: 
we rushed through a programme that should have 
taken at least three weeks. But when we go again 
we'll have more time, and shall be better prepared 
to appreciate all that presents itself in the way 
of art and piety, — the church of the Annunziata, 
for example. This beautiful old church, with its 
various chapels, contains many frescoes that we 
felt would more than repay study, — some, in 
particular, by Andrea del Sarto. But frescoes and 
ornaments were hastily glanced at as we made the 
rounds, stopping longest before the little oratory 
at the left of the entrance to the church. This is 
a sumptuously decorated shrine, enriched by the 
Medicis, containing a beautiful picture of the 
Annunciation, a fresco of the thirteenth century, 
in which our Blessed Mother's face is piously believed 
to have been painted by angel hands. 

52 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

With a sense of humility and awe we knelt there, 
as Aunt Margaret told us that St. Philip Benizi, 
St. Juliana, St. Aloysius Gonzaga, and St. Charles 
Borromeo, among others, had knelt just where we 
were. To this shrine the brides and grooms of 
Florence come immediately after the wedding 
ceremonies, and the bride leaves her bridal bouquet 
at Our Lady's feet. We saw several couples approach 
while we were in the church; and there was a 
pretty shyness about the veiled young brides, as 
well as an awkward attempt at nonchalance on 
the part of the proud, dark-eyed husbands, which 
made us realize that human nature is the same the 
world over. 

In the Piazza Santa Croce we stood before the 
great Dante monument erected in honor of the 
six hundredth anniversary of the poet's birth. 
It consists of a white marble statue nineteen feet 
high, on a pedestal twenty-three feet in height, at 
the corners of which are four shield-bearing lions, 
inscribed with the four most important works after 
the "Divine Comedy"; and below are the arms of 
the principal cities of Italy. The church of Santa 
Croce is the Pantheon of Florence; and it was 
a question, later on, which impressed us more, this 
sepulchral church (there are two hundred and 
seventy-six mortuary slabs in the pavement alone) 
or Westminster; for in Santa Croce are the tombs 
of Michael Angelo, Alneri, Rossini, Macchiavelli, 
Cosimo Medici, and others; also monuments to 
the memory of Galileo, Dante, Carlotta Bonaparte, 

53 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Cherubim, and many families whose names are 
inseparably connected with the history of Florence. 

This church possesses the crucifix which Donatello 
carved, and which he showed to Brunelleschi. 
Now, this friend was of the right sort; for he 
expected only the best from Donatello, so he did not 
praise the figure, — simply shrugged his shoulders 
and smiled. This irritated the young artist and he 
said: "If you think it is so easy to do, why, carve 
a Crucifixion yourself," — which Brunelleschi did. 
And the story goes that Donatello was great enough 
to recognize that his friend's work was superior to 
his own. Brunelleschi's piece of art and heart work 
is in the church of Santa Maria Novella, where we 
saw also Cimabue's famous Madonna. Its beauty 
so enraptured the people who looked upon it as it 
came from the painter's brush, that they bore it 
in solemn procession, and with such rejoicing that 
the street where Cimabue lived is still known as 
Borgo Allegri, the Street of Joy. 

On our way to visit the home of Dante and that 
of Beatrice Portinari, we caught a glimpse of 
the black-robed Brothers of the Misericordia bear- 
ing a Florentine to his last resting-place. It 
was a page out of the Middle Ages. We were carried 
back also by evidences everywhere of the power 
of the guilds in years gone by. Streets and buildings, 
monuments and shrines told of the munificence of 
the guilds of the weavers, of silk-merchants, of 
cheese-mongers, of stocking-makers, of painters, 
etc. And one could understand, too, the far- 

54 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

reaching effects of feuds in early days; for with 
the family name were inherited not only wealth 
and honors, but debts and grievances. The old 
names are everywhere, the very streets perpet- 
uating them, — such as Bardi, Capponi, Pazzi, 
Medici, and Corsini. 

Of course we visited the Uffizi and Pitti galleries; 
and of course we wanted to stay indefinitely in 
the Tribuna, the treasure-house of the Uffizi, where 
within four walls we beheld, among pieces of 
sculpture, the "Wrestlers," the "Medici Venus," 
the "Grinder," and the "Appolino"; and among 
paintings, Raphael's "Madonna of the Goldfinch," 
the "Madonna of the Grand-duke," and the "Virgin 
of the Well"; a Michelangelo, several Correggios, 
Van Dycks, Titians, Rubens; besides paintings by 
Veronese, Perugino, Diirer, and Domenichino. In 
the same gallery we saw Albertinelli's beautiful 
"Visitation," Fra Angelico's truly angelic angels, 
Da Vinci's "Adoration of the Magi," and others 
beyond number, to which we had never dreamed 
of coming closer than by means of photographic 
reproductions. In the same inadequate way we 
hastened through the Academy of Fine Arts (Mary 
declared we went through as if on roller-skates) ; 
but even to have seen for an instant the originals 
of pictures we had learned to love in copies, was 
something. To review the subjects, even in memory, 
is to realize that men must have lived Religion in 
those golden days of art; for they surely gave 
of their best in her service. 

55 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

The shops in Florence are enticing, — at least 
those we visited: art, book, and curio stores. 
Savonarola and Dante are to be had in all sizes 
and materials, from papier-mache to alabaster. 
Exquisite illuminations and artistic bindings, copies 
of masterpieces and marvellously beautiful frames, 
were ours for the asking — and the price. There 
is this about Florence: if one doesn't get what one 
wants, one finds out what one really wants; and 
one will be unsatisfied, without being dissatisfied, 
till one gets it. 

The last evening we had a drive at sunset to 
San Miniato. The road winds through wonderful 
gardens, between cypress and olive trees, and past 
flower-twined dwellings, with glimpses of the Arno 
here and there, and against the clear sky, circling 
the city, the soft outlines of the hills. In the centre 
of the piazza, at the top, is a bronze copy of Michael 
Angelo's "David." 

The last day of our stay dawned; and, as our 
train left at eleven o'clock, we rose early to make 
the most of our few remaining hours. To her 
dismay, Mary found that her right foot refused to 
accept the room her shoe afforded. In Rome she 
had done as Romans do — namely, tried to relieve 
the discomfort of flea bites in the natural way, 
and a mild infection had set in. There was nothing 
to do but wear a prunella house-slipper of Aunt 
Margaret's; and, as Mary rather liked pretty shoes, 
we had not a little sport at the expense of her 
vanity. But she declared that she would exaggerate 

56 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

her limp, and everyone would know she had met 
with an accident. Finally, we started to Mass at 
the cathedral, after which we went back to 
the hotel through out-of-the-way streets, reading 
the signs, etc. Dentists, we noted, nearly all 
added "American methods" to their professional 
"shingles." We were amused to see queer combina- 
tions, as, for instance, "Giacomo Spooner" and 
' ' Giovanni Murphy. ' ' 

By the time we had taken breakfast and strapped 
our suit-cases, it was almost too late to go to San 
Marco. Catherine and I were for giving it up, 
urging the necessity of arriving early at the station 
so as to secure good seats in the train; but Mary 
held out. So we hailed a carriage, and soon we 
were in the Via Cavour, which led directly to the 
church and monastery of St. Mark. How glad 
we were that Mary had carried her point! We 
were really respectful to her for at least an hour, 
and pretended not to see the flat prunella shoe. 

The church of San Marco was interesting, but 
the monastery and cloisters were almost over- 
whelming in their history and associations. In 
our hurry, we got only a kaleidoscopic impression 
of the frescoes and chapels of the church. The 
bell of San Marco, which gave the alarm to the 
people the night the monastery was attacked and 
Savonarola taken prisoner, was, at the suggestion 
of an official named Tanai de' Nerli, sent to the 
monastery of San Salvatore at Miniato; and it 
is recorded that "the first time the bell rang from 

57 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

its new position was for the death of that same 
Nerli who had sent it from Florence. Later it was 
restored to the belfry of San Marco. 

Walking through the cloisters of the monastery, 
we forgot trains and hurry, thinking only of those 
great men who once walked the same pavements 
we were traversing, — St. Antoninus, Fra Angelico, 
Fra Bartolommeo, and Savonarola. The frescoes 
in corridors, chapter room and refectory represented 
chiefly scenes from the life of St. Dominic, and 
were evidently a labor of love. But it was in the 
cells of the monks that we found the pride of the 
monastery and of Florence, the famous frescoes 
by Fra Angelico and Fra Bartolommeo. Here, too, 
were the cells occupied by Savonarola; his old 
chair near an imitation of his desk (the original 
having fallen to pieces), and on it the wooden cru- 
cifix which he called his own. In a cabinet were a 
copy of his book, "Trial by Fire," his hair-shirt, 
rosary, and a fragment from the pile on which 
he was burned. 

Our rapture was suddenly brought to an end 
by the driver of our cab, who assured us that we 
should not reach the station in time for our train 
if we delayed another moment. So we tore our- 
selves away and were hurried to the train, where 
a packet of mail was handed Aunt Margaret, who 
immediately distributed it among us, while we 
arranged ourselves and luggage in a comfortable 
compartment all to ourselves. We read letters 
and talked Florence all at once, Mary voicing our 

58 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

sentiments as she said, "I'd rather have our old 
iron hitching-post at home than all the ornamental 
lanterns in Florence"; whereupon Aunt Margaret 
explained that a hitching-post was a necessity, 
but that before many years we should recognize 
at home that necessity and beauty might both 
be found in a hitching-post. To which Catherine 
replied: "By that time we won't need them; 
for everybody will have an automobile." With 
this the train started, and we were off for Venice. 



59 



VII. 



YENICE was a name to conjure with 
when we left Florence. But the hot, 
dusty ride, even though it was through 
a beautiful country, had a depressing 
effect on the imagination; and before we reached 
Mestre we almost forgot that we had ever had 
dreams of a fairyland — or a fairy water-scene — 
called Venice. With the first pungent breath of 
salt air from the Adriatic, however, fatigue was 
forgotten. What was it going to be like? 

Venice, the city of sunshine and spray, of silver 
and turquoise, is two and a half miles from the 
mainland; and the approach is over a wonderful 
bridge, built of stone and brick, with larch-wood 
piles and oak binders. Aunt Margaret told us 
this as we drew toward the place of dreams; while 
Catherine supplemented the information with bits 
from Baedeker. "There are one hundred and 
eighteen islands, joined by four hundred and fifty 
bridges, the group divided into two parts by the 
Grand Canal." This was nothing to us. We wanted 
to see the great water-streets, the gondolas and 
the gondoliers. 

It was just after sunset when we left the station 
(which was not the least bit romantic), following 
a porter who took us to — a cab? No, but to a 
"really, truly" gondola. All about the marble 
steps that led from the platform to the water 

60 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

edge, they were gathered, like great black swans, — 
long, slender, graceful boats, with shining metal 
blade at the bow, arching like a swan's neck; and 
in the centre of the boat an awning, draped at sides 
and back, under which the traveller steps to a 
cushioned seat. One by one, the boats noiselessly 
drew away with passengers; and, in less time than 
it takes to tell it, we were moving along the Grand 
Canal in a path of silver ripples, each ripple tipped 
with a ruby from the after-glow of the sunset. As 
we neared the Hotel Royal Danieli, the rubies 
slipped into the quiet deeps, the dusk touched the 
silver to jade, and we alighted fully under the 
spell of Venice. 

A bath and dinner were first in order, after 
which we walked along the Riva, where all Venice 
seemed congregated. Cassocked priests, sailors, 
Venetian ladies beautifully gowned, Italian military 
men in gold-decked uniforms, American tourists, 
German officers from a man-of-war anchored in the 
Bacino opposite, moved in a brilliant pageant on 
this marble-paved quay, beyond which stretch the 
gleaming waters of the expanse into which the 
Grand Canal here broadens. Strains of music from 
the Piazetta drew our willing feet toward the 
Doge's Palace and around into St. Mark's Square. 
We were entranced, and were brought back to 
reality only when Aunt Margaret laughingly ex- 
claimed: "If Peter Newell saw you now, he'd 
photograph you all for 'Alice in Wonderland'!" I 
know my eyes were open as wide as saucers, and I 

61 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

am afraid my mouth was open, too. The lights and 
the music, and the crowds moving about or sitting 
at small tables in the brilliantly illuminated arcades, 
fascinated one. 

We saw all this and more, with the wonderful 
facade of St. Mark's as a background, a sky over- 
head that seemed sheer amethyst because of the 
lights in the Square; and, circling it all, there was 
the salt smell of the sea and the rhythmic pulse 
of waters that broke softly on the marble steps 
of the Molo. Is it any wonder that our faces showed 
astonished delight? The wonder to me is that we 
could leave it all at Aunt Margaret's bidding. 
The only explanation Mary could give for our 
quiet obedience under the circumstances was that 
we were hypnotized by the beauty, the charm of 
Venice. 

Early next morning we were at St. Mark's, 
where we assisted at Mass in the chapel of the 
Blessed Sacrament; after which we took a brief 
survey of this marvellous mosaic, for such the 
church might be called. Every country visited in 
the long ago, with either friendly or hostile intent, 
by the Venetian galleys contributed its rarest and 
best to this unique structure. From Solomon's 
Temple and the Mosque of Constantinople, from 
the palaces of Byzantium and the triumphal arches 
of Rome, the church of St. Mark drew many of 
its treasures of marble — serpentine, verde-antico, 
alabaster and bronze. The pavement of stone 
mosaic dates from the twelfth century; and its 

62 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

unevenness, due to the effects of time and the 
washing away of foundations deep down, keeps 
one in mind that Venice is of the sea. 

There is a wealth of decoration everywhere — 
in nave and aisles, in domes and apse, — and yet 
a perfect harmony in the profusion. It is almost 
barbaric in its splendor, if one considers separately 
the various frescoes, statues, carvings, and altars; 
but so wonderfully are colors blended and objects 
contrasted that one feels the whole pressing on one 
with a beauty that awes. The choir-screen of 
marble, the rood arch above, the high altar beneath 
which repose the relics of St. Mark, the two pulpits 
(one reserved in other days for the presentation to 
the people of the newly-elected Doge),— these are 
objective points of interest. But it is the mellowed, 
or rather the hallowed, atmosphere of the historic 
pile, with its treasures of art, its invitation to 
prayer, that stirs one deepest. 

Somehow, here, even more than in the Duomo 
in Florence, did the words of Longfellow's sonnet, 
introductory to the ''Divine Comedy," present 
themselves to us, as we saw the fisher-folk, the 
gondoliers, the peasant women, kneeling before 
shadowy shrines, unmindful of the ceaseless stream 
of tourists. Mary was our poet, and softly she 
spoke the lines: 

Oft have I seen at some cathedral door 
A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, 
Lay down his burden and with reverent feet 

Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor 

63 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Kneel to repeat his Pater Noster o'er; 

Far off the noises of the world retreat; 

The loud vociferations of the street 
Become an undistinguishable roar. 

So, as I enter here from day to day 

And leave my burden at this minster gate, 

Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray, 
The tumult of the time disconsolate 

To inarticulate murmurs dies away, 
While the eternal ages watch and wait. 

The facade of St. Mark's has been described so 
often, and photographs and post-cards have sup- 
plemented the descriptions so vividly, that it is 
familiar to most people. But one must see it to 
appreciate it. It is Oriental in effect, with its five 
domes, columned arches, and portals, its dividing 
line of balustrade, and elaborate gargoyles, its 
famous group of bronze horses, its statues and 
frescoes. The color scheme is all that Ruskin says 
of it; and when the sun is full upon it, and on 
scrolls and flowers and statues hundreds of pigeons 
are preening and curving opalescent breasts, the 
tourist realizes that there is in the whole world 
but one St. Mark's. 

These pigeons of San Marco are a great attrac- 
tion. They are quite tame and nutter about, 
ready to make pretty advances for a little corn. 
Of course we photographed one another feeding 
the doves, and we tried to look as we imagined 
St. Francis must have looked when he drew the 
birds to him. Catherine declared there was some- 

64 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

thing wrong with the film, for she never looked 
so stiff in her life as the kodak had pictured her. 
We just quoted Robert Burns, 

Oh, wad some pow'r the giftie gie us 
To see oursel's as others see us! 

and showed her how lovely Aunt Margaret and 
the rest of us were in the pictures. 

We were surprised to learn that one might walk 
everywhere in Venice, for there are colli and callette 
(streets and alleys) where there are narrow foot- 
paths, bridges crossing here and there; and, if one 
walks far enough, even the Grand Canal may be 
crossed by bridge. But who would walk when a 
gondola waits one's pleasure? 

The first afternoon we took a gondola at the 
Molo, in front of the hotel, and enjoyed to the 
full the picturesque beauty of the Grand Canal, — 
or, as an American girl is recorded to have said, 
"we just leaned back and drank it all in." Our 
gondolier was not, it must be confessed, arrayed 
as some we have seen in pictures; but he was 
romantic-looking enough, in blue trousers, white 
blouse, red silk scarf around his waist, and wide- 
brimmed straw hat. The water washed right up 
to the doorsteps of the palaces on each side of the 
canal, poles of various colors projecting as hitching 
places for water-cabs, as gondolas have been styled. 
We passed palaces and churches, saw Desdemona's 
house, the palace where Byron wrote when in 
Venice, the home of Browning's son, the fruit and 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

fish markets; glided under the Rialto, and saw 
the Vendramin Palace where Wagner died in 1883. 
The buildings, beautiful in coloring and carved 
decorations, marked with age, discolored by the 
waters, were not more real to us than were their 
wavering images in the Canal. What a wonderful 
people the Venetians of old must have been, to 
wrest their land from the sea, and build on that 
land such fabrics of beauty as dwelling-places for 
themselves and their children! 

The next morning we went to St. Zaccaria for 
Mass. It is back in a court off the Riva, and is a 
church of historic and artistic importance. It 
dates from the close of the fifteenth century, and 
its history is represented in the frescoes adorning 
its walls. A fine Bellini Madonna, which alone is 
worth visiting, draws many lovers of art. After 
breakfast we took a gondola for Santa Maria della 
Salute, a beautiful dome-covered church which 
commands the great silver water-way from its 
eastern point of vantage, and is dedicated as a 
thank-offering to our Blessed Mother, who in time 
of plague heard the prayers of the Venetians and 
won from her Son a cessation of the pestilence. 
This event is commemorated in the church itself, 
in a realistic marble group, over the high altar, 
representing Our Lady banishing the demons and 
the plague. 

Everywhere in the churches of Venice are Titians 
and Tintorettos, Bellinis and Veroneses; and every- 
where are there pictures and statues of Our Lady, 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

St. Mark, St. Theodore, St. Sebastian, and St. 
George. Often in gazing on these we longed for a 
little of the art knowledge and appreciation of 
Ruskin; and yet we would not have exchanged 
for all of his art-lore our Catholic intuition and 
Catholic training, which helped us to see much of 
the symbolism underlying the art treasures of 
Italy. Poor Ruskin, if only he had known, what 
an apostle he would have been, not only of beauty, 
but of the truth as it is, not as it seemed to him! 
One of our most delightful trips came about 
through a mistake. We decided to go to confession, 
and supposed that at the Jesuit church we should 
be likely to find an English-speaking priest. Cath- 
erine explained to the gondolier that we wished to 
go to the Jesuit church, and we had no doubt 
that he understood; for he set forth unhesitatingly 
up the Grand Canal, past Santa Maria della Salute, 
past the Accademia, bringing us to a landing beside 
a calk leading to a church. We were so taken up 
with the thought of confession that we took little 
notice of the art features of the church. On appli- 
cation to a sexton, we could get nothing but shrugs 
and the words, u Si, I Gesuati." A mixture of 
French, German and Latin brought us to an under- 
standing. No English was spoken there, and it 
was not the Jesuit church. We then appealed in 
polyglot, which included gestures, to our gondolier. 
Suddenly light dawned on him. "Ah, Gesuati!"— 
pointing to the church we had j ust left. ' ' Gesuiti! ' ' — 
pointing toward some unknown point. And we 

67 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

embarked for that point, wherever it might be. 

We retraced our way to the Grand Canal, crossed 
it, and then threaded a devious course along narrow 
and gloomy side-canals, past houses blue and green 
with mould, through patches of sunlight, skim- 
ming by arch-doorways that showed romantic 
courts beyond, real garden-spots; and all the way 
the silence was hardly broken except for the peculiar 
call of the boatmen as they passed. All that we 
saw seemed more like real Venice than even the 
Riva or San Marco. Finally, the gondola was 
brought to a stop, and the gondolier with a flourish 
indicated the Gesuiti. To us, the church was 
over-decorated; the high altar particularly, the 
upper part of which contained ten spiral columns 
of encrusted mosaic, and in the centre a globe with 
God the Father and the Son. The very walls were 
of marble inlaid with v erde- antic o. Without dif- 
ficulty, an English confessor was called; and we 
felt that wonderful peace which confession always 
brings, — a blessed feeling of serenity that comes 
from nothing else in the world. 

At the church of the Frari we witnessed funeral 
ceremonies that were anything but impressive. 
Repairs were going on in several parts of the 
church, but no one seemed to mind the hammer- 
ing. In front of the choir-screen the funeral party 
were gathered about the coffin, which was on a 
high catafalque. At each corner stood a sexton, 
or verger, wearing a dingy white gown, something 
like an alb, reaching to his knees, and bearing a 

68 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

lighted candle. At the foot of the coffin stood ten 
or twelve little girls in white and wearing veils. 
After the ceremonies, the casket was borne to a 
waiting funeral gondola; and after it gondolas 
followed, bearing the mourners. It was novel, but, 
somehow, not impressive. The huge mortuary 
wreaths of flowers made of colored glass beads, 
common in Italy, were tawdry to us; and yet there 
was, no doubt, as much feeling represented by them 
as by the costly floral pieces which mark funerals 
in our own land. 

Late that same afternoon we saw the funeral 
of some notable citizen, and it was different in its 
elegant simplicity from the one at the Frari. The 
gondola bearing the coffin was draped in black 
velvet, edged with silver; black plumes and silver 
sconces added a decorative touch, as the boat 
glided by us, followed by two gondolas with close- 
drawn black curtains. The gondoliers were sombre 
in black and silver; and altogether the scene made 
us think of Elaine as she was borne by the hoary 
boatman to Arthur's castle. 

The Accademia, as Aunt Margaret pointed out 
to us, is truly Venetian, with its paintings of 
Veronese, Tintoretti and Bellini. The crowded 
canvases, the vivid coloring, the air of luxury, — 
all are of Venice. Of course Titian's "Assumption" 
is the attraction; and as one approaches it, the 
beauty of it and the glory of it take one captive. 

The Palace of the Doges we never tired of visit- 
ing. Its pointed arcades and carved columns, 

69 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

with sunlight and shadows slipping in and out, 
with the never-ceasing throngs, give to the corner 
of the Piazetta a wonderful charm. The magnifi- 
cent court; the stairway, on the top landing of 
which doges were crowned; the long stretches of 
corridors, and vast halls ornamented in frescoes of 
the late Venetian masters; the Bridge of Sighs; the 
prison beyond; the Bocca di Leone (the letter-box, 
formerly adorned with a lion's head, into the 
mouth of which secret notices were thrown) ; the 
Library of St. Mark, — who could in a year's visit 
enumerate the beauty and the wonder of it all? 
And who ever visited Venice without spending 
more than one could afford in the shops? Venetian 
lace, lustrous silk, pearls, filigree-work, mosaics, 
enamel-ware, rare bindings, paintings, statuary, 
and exquisite glass, tempt one; and the tempta- 
tion is all the more luring because one is sure that 
the same conditions will hardly present themselves 
again. Well, after we left Venice, we were glad 
that Aunt Margaret had put off cashing our Amer- 
ican Express coupons; but we were not glad while 
we were in sight of the Piazza and its shops. 

A run to the Lido in one of the little puffing 
vaporetti (steamboats) gave us an idea of a Venetian 
bathing resort; and the Adriatic was like a flashing 
sapphire the day we saw it. Our last sight-seeing 
included San Michele, the island of the dead. It 
is a gloomy place, surrounded by a gray wall. 
The chapel is artistic, and the pavement around 
the cloister is marked with sepulchral slabs. The 

70 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

cemetery proper is a crowded, confused mass of 
variously colored wooden poles, bearing cards or 
tablets giving the names of those resting beneath. 
Interspersed are headstones, and floral wreaths 
made of glass beads, with here and there portraits 
of the departed looking out on the passing world 
that matters so little to them now. The quiet of 
San Michele is the quiet of soft music, — the music 
of waters endlessly breaking around the island 
of graves. 

All too soon the hour of departure from Venice 
was announced, and reluctantly we packed our 
lions of St. Mark and our flocks of pigeons. Mem- 
ories of music on the waters, of starry nights, of 
wayside shrines, of water-color pictures fairer than 
hand ever painted, of legends of St. Mark and St. 
Theodore, found their culmination as our gondola 
stopped for a moment opposite Santa Maria della 
Salute, and we whispered a farewell to Our Lady, 
the Queen of Venice, throned lovingly over an 
altar at which Pope Pius X. often stood, and for 
which his heart is lonely now. Silently we looked 
our last at Venice as we passed along its great 
silver thoroughfare, and trailed our hands in the 
water which broke into diamonds as it fell through 
our fingers, — liquid diamonds, clear as tears, and 
salt as tears; for Venice is too beautiful not to 
have known tears. 



7i 



w. 



VIII. 

E took an earlier train from Venice 
than the one our party was booked 
for, that we might stop at Padua long 
enough to visit Sant' Antonio, the 
sepulchral church of the dear Saint of Padua. We 
had time only to drive through the narrow, tor- 
tuous streets — that seemed narrower and more 
crowded because of the portici, or arcades, which 
take up the sidewalks — to the church, which some- 
how did not impress us as either beautiful or 
devotional. It is a mixture of Gothic and Byzan- 
tine, and has six domes. Of course the paintings 
are interesting, for they represent scenes from 
the life of II Santo; and there is a marvellous 
collection of precious relics in a treasury off the 
sanctuary. The shrine of St. Anthony was the 
centre of attraction and devotion; and we kissed 
with tender reverence the stone of the altar over 
the relics of the saint, as we whispered a prayer 
to the wonder-worker. The trouble was that we 
could not remain long enough to get ourselves 
into the spirit of the place. Toward evening we 
reached Milan, the city of St. Charles Borromeo; 
and were fortunate in securing rooms looking out 
on the Piazza del Duomo, and with a corner view 
of Our Lady's beautiful church, the cathedral. 

Our first glimpse of it in the glare of the electric 
lights gave the impression of a wonderful mirage — 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

a cloud church with cloud turrets. But in the 
morning it was still there, a forest of steeples, a 
structure of exquisite proportions, with marble 
carvings almost lacelike in delicacy of effect. Think 
of a church, gleaming white, lifting up ninety- 
eight turrets, twenty-five figures on each steeple; 
a church adorned with more than six thousand 
statues, by actual count, and all of glistening 
marble; a structure rich in noble carvings and 
iris-hued stained glass, the three choir windows 
alone embodying three hundred and fifty Script- 
ural subjects, — surely it is the Eighth Wonder of 
the world! 

The interior is most impressive, and the size 
of the church may be judged from the fact that 
there are fifty-two pillars, twelve feet in diameter, 
the tops of which have canopied niches with 
statues. The church is the Litany of the Saints 
in stone, with Mary Queen of Saints enthroned 
high on the tower over the dome. In Milan we 
saw the first altar of St. Joseph that had met our 
eyes in Italy; and it was with special devotion 
that we prayed at the tomb of St. Charles Bor- 
romeo, and beheld the wooden crucifix which the 
great Cardinal bore in 1576, when, barefooted, he 
went about the city on his errand of mercy among 
the plague-stricken. 

To the right of the cathedral is the Galleria 
Vittorio Emanuele, really a glass-roofed street, 
connecting the Piazza del Duomo and the Piazza 
della Scala; and also the streets running east and 

73 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

west of these two squares; for the arcade is in the 
form of a Latin cross, and is lined with splendid 
shops. At night it is especially attractive, for it 
is then a blaze of electric light. 

A day was too short to see all the treasures of 
the Brera, with its library, picture-gallery, and 
museum. Canova's "Napoleon I.," in bronze, 
occupies the centre of the court; and once inside 
the building, there is nothing to do, according to 
Catherine, but turn oneself into a catalogue. Aunt 
Margaret called our attention to Raphael's famous 
"Espousals of Our Lady" and a few other notable 
paintings, of which we got photographic copies 
at the door. Mary seemed busy taking notes, but 
we learned later that she had beguiled the weariness 
of "miles of pictures" with the following: 

Is this by Bernardo Luini, 

Or else by Gentile Bellini, 

Or perhaps by Fra Lippi? 

Oh, dear! I am dippy! 

See here is the name 'tis Pedrini. 

We took a roundabout way to our hotel, and 
spent an hour at the Castello di Porta Giovia, 
once the seat of government and now a sort of 
museum. It is a real castle, the kind that one 
reads about, with turrets and moat and draw- 
bridges. The place and its contents are a sort of 
object-lesson in the history of Milan. We enjoyed 
it in a way; but, as Mary remarked later on, 
" little did we dream of what toils were being woven 
about us." 

74 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Tuesday we started out early, heard Mass at the 
Duomo, took a hurried breakfast, then directed our 
steps to the Ambrosian Library, with its treasures 
of MSS., the most precious of which we looked 
at with reverence. Think of letters written in the 
long ago by St. Charles Borromeo, Ariosto, Tasso, 
Galileo, and St. Alphonsus Liguori! There we saw 
a copy of Virgil with marginal notes by Petrarch. 
(Catherine declared that her copy of Virgil has 
more notes than the Milan eaition.) Interesting as 
was the Ambrosian Library, the church of St. 
Ambrose was more so. Here it was that St. 
Ambrose baptized St. Augustine, and it was here 
that the great Bishop and Father of the Church 
rebuked the Emperor Theodosius. It was in this 
church, too, that the Lombard kings formerly were 
crowned with the famous Iron Crown; this inter- 
esting relic of a past age is now preserved at Monza, 
just north of Milan. 

Next our guide took us to Santa Maria delle 
Grazie, adjoining which is the monastery (now a 
cavalry barracks) enriched with the "Last Supper" 
(lately restored) by Da Vinci. The face of the 
Divine Master is compelling in its sad beauty. A 
drive through the park, and a glimpse of the 
cemetery, the third in point of sculptural and 
landscape beauty in the world (the finest being in 
Buenos Aires, the second in Genoa), closed our 
formal sight-seeing; and as we drove to our hotel, 
past the opera house and the great silk shops, 
Mary said she was leaving Milan without having 

75 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

decided which she'd like better — to have as many 
silk dresses as she wanted, or to make her debut 
at La Scala. 

This momentous question was soon out of her 
mind; for, as we stepped from the carriage, the 
hotel manager came toward us, and urbanely, but 
with some show of suppressed excitement, invited 
us into a private parlor, where a military-looking 
man seemed awaiting our presence. There, in 
broken English, he explained that he was sorry 
to have to trouble us, but would we tell him if 
any of us owned a small note-book he held before 
us. Mary at once claimed it; whereupon the 
manager told us that the officer who brought it 
had been instructed by a keeper at the Castle that 
the day before a young girl, a foreigner, had been 
seen taking notes, and then had accidentally 
dropped the book. He, the officer, had been de- 
puted to look up the party, and if possible seek 
an explanation of the drawings, and he pointed 
to sundry art efforts. With not a little mischievous 
enjoyment, Mary explained: 

"That long object? That is meant for a Naples 
loaf of bread. And that fringe? Macaroni drying. 
And the black objects near are children and 
goats and dogs running in and out the macaroni 
strings." 

"And this officer?" the guard inquired. 

"That is meant for an Italian soldier. And this" 
(and the smiles became laughter) " is Aunt Margaret 
when her pompadour has wilted in the heat and she 

76 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

is tired answering questions. I drew that yesterday 
at the Castle." 

Then, with bows and apologies from the manager, 
and apologies and bows from the guard, they 
waved us toward the waiting elevator; and when 
we reached our room we had a laugh that made us 
forget heat and dust and fatigue, and we were 
gladder than ever that we lived in the Land of 
the Free. 

Early in the afternoon, we left Milan for Lucerne ; 
and as we noted the charm of the Italian scenery 
in this Northern region, with its vines and mul- 
berry trees, its wayside shrines, its white monas- 
teries, its imposing villas, its glimpses of blue 
waters, like great turquoises in an emerald setting, 
we began to realize that we were leaving Italy. 
Milan, as a city, had prepared us for the change; 
it was more modern to us than the other cities 
we had visited; and we summed up our impres- 
sions, deciding that Naples is unique, picturesque; 
Rome, impressive, soul-stirring; Florence, beautiful, 
artistic; Venice, romantic; and Milan, new and 
well-ordered, but not so interesting to the tourist 
as the other cities. 

Soon the Alpine scenery told us we were in 
Switzerland, "the playground of Europe"; and 
our way took us in and out of tunnels, across 
streams, doubling on our tracks, through the 
great St. Gotthard Tunnel, nine and one-fourth 
miles long, and on toward the clear, cool, majestic 
beauty of the Lake of the Four Cantons, at the head 

77 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of which is Lucerne, the place of our next stop, 
which was to be only for a day or two. 

Switzerland is a land of contrasts. Snowy peaks 
tower above verdure-clad valleys; the bluest of blue 
skies are mirrored in blue lakes; or, as sometimes 
happens (and we can testify that it does happen), 
a gray sky above with leaden lakes below is the 
order of the day. Aunt Margaret was especially 
interested in this little model Republic, so in her 
own delightfully informal way she taught us much 
of the history of the country. She told us about 
the Lake Dwellers who roamed the mountains 
and whose skiffs were on these lakes and rivers 
three thousand years before the Christian era; 
about the Helvetians, a Swiss tribe, once a Roman 
province; and about the introduction of Chris- 
tianity in the third century. The story of their 
falling away from the Faith and their re-conversion 
by SS. Columbanus and Gallus was as interesting 
as a romance. And all through the history certain 
names stand out as representative of great good 
or of great evil; among them Bertha, the widow 
of Rudolf II.; St. Maurice, St. Felix, St. Regula, 
St. Leodegar; Zwingli, Calvin, and Bonnivard. 

We really saw very little of Switzerland; for 
our only stop was at Lucerne, and we were there 
but two days. Our first visit was to St. Xavier's 
Church. Here we found pews, and Mass was being 
offered at the high altar, as well as in each of the 
many side chapels. There was no moving around 
of tourists, no sight-seeing, no explanations of 

78 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

guides, and we felt at home. Later we visited the 
Hofkirche of St. Leodegar, where there is a famous 
organ; and wandered around among the monu- 
ments in the adjoining churchyard. The Reuss, 
a beautiful river issuing from the Lake, divides 
Lucerne into the Kleinstadt and the Grosstadt, 
connected by several bridges. The Seebriicke is a 
modern structure, but the Kapellbriicke andSpreuer- 
briicke are centuries old. The first dates from 
1333, is built entirely of wood and zigzags across 
the river. In 112 triangular paintings, placed at 
regular intervals beneath the angle of the roof of 
the bridge, are recorded the heroic deeds of the 
old Switzers and the sufferings of their patron 
saints, Leodegar and Maurice. The Spreuerbriicke 
contains a series of paintings representing the 
"Dance of Death." 

A short walk from the cathedral brings one 
upon a bit of rugged Alpine scenery, that seems 
far removed from the fashion and luxury of life 
as it is lived in the hotels along the Quay. In a 
romantic wooded nook, there gleams a small lake; 
and beyond it rises a tall -cliff, in a recess of which 
is carved the Lion of Lucerne. Prone there, the 
point of a javelin in his side, his head and paw 
resting on the shield he died in protecting, the 
Swiss shield close by, is the symbol of the faithful 
Helvetians. 

Near this great Thorwaldsen monument is the 
Glacier Garden, where one sees nine "potholes" 
of an ancient glacier. The guide-book says of these : 

79 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

They were evidently hollowed out in prehistoric times 
by waters flowing beneath the glacier which then ex- 
tended from the St. Gotthard to the north of Switzerland. 
Water trickling through the fissures of the glacier imparted 
a rotatory motion to stones, which, after falling upon 
the ice, also found their way through the fissures. In 
the course of centuries these stones hollowed out the 
holes in the rocks beneath, and were left in them when 
the glacier receded. Indeed, these stones, consisting of 
gneiss, granite of St. Gotthard, and Alpine limestone, 
are still to be seen in the holes. 

Of course we spent several delightful hours in 
a small motor-boat on the lake, touching at points 
of interest; and of course we promenaded under 
the trees along the Quay. We did not ascend either 
the Rigi or old Pilatus, for those heights persist- 
ently wrapped themselves in clouds during our 
stay. The morning we were leaving Lucerne the 
summits shone out clear in the sunlight; but it 
was too late then. And Catherine maintained that 
Pilatus smiled wickedly at having disappointed a 
lot of American tourists, showing them that their 
money, which does so much for them in travelling, 
couldn't beguile him into allowing an interview. 
Perhaps the great peaks belong to a Union, for the 
Rigi did not behave any better than Pilatus. 

There are many pretty legends about the lakes, 
the mountains, and the old heroes. As regards the 
heroes, history and myth are hard to distinguish. 
William Tell, for example, is very real to the Swiss 
people. Somehow, the stories one hears are to 
history and literature what the picturesque chalets 

80 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

are to the Swiss landscape, — real in a way, but 
not substantial. Here, as in Italy, there are out- 
door shrines, — some in honor of our Blessed Mother; 
others, wayside Stations of the Cross. French and 
Italian are spoken everywhere in Switzerland; but 
as soon as one passes the boundary line of Italy, 
there is a change of vocalization as well as of 
climate and scenery. No longer does one linger 
over the vowels in words like " Bellinzona," "Lago 
Maggiore," "Venezia," "Milano"; instead, one gets 
vocal exercise in such terms as " Schwarzenberg," 
" Hammerschwand," and " Rothenburg-Kloepfen- 
Eschenbach." 

There is a sturdiness, a reticence, a cleanliness 
about the dwellers of the Alpine regions that 
appeal to one. In Lucerne there is no begging; a 
price is put on souvenirs, and you may take them 
or leave them. In the Hofkirche, a contribution 
box is near the main entrance; a placard on it 
asks alms for the needy and for the church, but 
there is no other asking for gratuities. Italy and 
Switzerland are neighbors, but they are very far 
apart. Which did we like better? That is another 
thing. What Catholic would hesitate to declare 
in favor of Rome, the head and heart of the Church? 

From Lucerne to Basle we had a compartment 
all to ourselves; this privilege we utilized by 
comparing notes, and, of course, enjoying the 
outlook. One thing that struck us particularly 
was that in our travels we had thus far seen few 
children, except of the poorer classes, who literally 

81 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

live in the streets and courts, and fewer young girls 
of our age. In Rome we saw a class of First Com- 
municants, accompanied by Religious of the Sacred 
Heart from the Trinita, on the way to an audience 
with the Holy Father; and they were driving. 
Nowhere were young women in evidence as they 
are in the United States; and I am not sure that 
Aunt Margaret was wrong in declaring in favor 
of this seclusion. 

At Basle there was a long halt, and two officials 
appeared who demanded our suit-cases and hand- 
bags. Mary rather demurred, at which we won- 
dered; for she rarely carried much, preferring to 
run the risk of having to wait for her baggage at 
our various halting-places. Finally she opened it, 
and disclosed a cigar-holder, a bear in carved wood; 
two or three miniature copies of the Lion of 
Lucerne, in carved wood and in metal; and several 
packages of Swiss chocolate! This ordeal over, 
two passengers entered our compartment, and 
before we had reached the next station we learned 
that Mr. and Mrs. R. were English, that Mr. R. 
had dyspepsia in a serious form, and that they 
were travelling for the good of his health. The 
subject of Mr. R.'s malady was uppermost in 
the minds of both, and they discussed it, until 
finally it became humorous to us and proved our 
undoing. This was in Mayence, which we reached 
late in the afternoon, and where we found our 
English friends registered at the same hostelry. 

82 



IX. 



JT was early for dinner when we arrived at 
our hotel near the Stadthalle; so, in spite 
of threatening clouds, we decided to see a 
little of Mayence, which, from our first 
impressions, promised to be interesting. We left 
to the driver the choice of points to be visited, 
not even specifying the cathedral, knowing that 
we should go there for Mass the next morning. 
We drove along the Esplanade, a beautiful roadway 
bordering the Rhine; past the Schlossplatz, and, 
of course, the Schloss, or Electoral Palace; up 
Kaiserstrasse, then around through the old portions 
of the city. By this time we realized that the storm 
threatened to be a severe one, and were glad to 
be hurried back to the hotel. 

Dinner was next in order; and when we were 
escorted to our table, there were our English 
fellow-travellers of the afternoon. Considering that 
Mr. R. suffered from dyspepsia, we were surprised 
that he ate so freely, and naturally commented 
on the fact when we had retired to our rooms. 
About nine the storm was over, and some delight- 
ful music floated in at our windows from a garden 
cafe near by. Popular music, no doubt the people 
called it; but the best only is popular with these 
music-loving Germans. And, borne on the stream 
of sweet sound that blended with the flow of the 
Rhine, we drifted away to dreamland. 

83 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

The next morning disgrace awaited us — or at 
least two of us, — and here is how it happened. 
At breakfast the dyspeptic and his wife joined us. 
Catherine was suffering from a toothache, so Aunt 
Margaret ordered milk toast for her; the rest of 
us gave our usual substantial orders. Mr. R. 
partook of a hearty meal, assisted his wife in dis- 
posing of the breakfast she ordered; and, while 
descanting on the inconvenience of his malady, 
he reached over and drew toward himself the dish 
of toast from which Catherine had taken a small 
portion. That was too much, and Mary and I 
promptly, as we used to say at school, "got the 
giggles." Aunt Margaret gave us a warning look. 
Catherine had her swollen face to excuse her for 
putting up her handkerchief, but Mary and I 
fell hopelessly into disgrace. We simply could 
not stop laughing; and, to crown our iniquity, 
the waiter back of Mr. R. forgot his professional 
gravity and had to pretend to cough in order 
to cover his enjoyment of our enjoyment. Fortu- 
nately, the poor invalid (?) did not dream that he 
was the cause of our mirth; and as we left the table 
he waved us a good-morning, as he said, " Quite 
amusing, don't you know!" 

There was but one hour before boat time; so 
we sent our baggage to the dock, and started for 
the cathedral of St. Martin, a combination of 
ancient and modern architecture, but altogether 
interesting. The paintings and mortuary monu- 
ments are full of meaning to the student of history 

8 4 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

and of Christian art. Ecclesiastical and state 
dignitaries rest side by side, and over them the 
saints whom they invoked in life keep loving 
guard. In the cloisters also are several notable 
monuments. One is a memorial erected by the 
ladies of Mayence in honor of Count Heinrich von 
Meissen, surnamed "Frauenlob," because of his 
tributes to Mary, the peerless One, and to virtuous 
women in general. 

The Archbishop Willigis, who lived about the 
year iooo, is one of the holy men whose labors 
helped to build the cathedral at Mayence, and the 
arms of the city commemorate his virtue. The 
story is that he was of humble parentage, being 
the son of a wheelwright, but by his perseverance 
and merit he attained to the highest position in 
the Church in the kingdom. The citizens revered 
him, but they showed that they did not altogether 
relish having to do honor to one who had been 
brought up simply like themselves. The Arch- 
bishop reproved them once for thinking too much 
of mere descent. This displeased some of them, 
so they took revenge by drawing with chalk enor- 
mous wheels on the doors of his house. Early 
next morning, when he started out to Mass, he 
noticed what had been done. The chaplain who 
was with him expected that the prelate would 
exclaim indignantly. Instead, he smiled, and 
ordered that a painter be sent to paint white 
wheels on a red background just where the chalk 
wheels had been drawn, and underneath to trace 

85 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

the words, "Willigis! Willigis! think what you 
have risen from!" This silenced the scoffers, we 
are told; and so highly was the Archbishop ven- 
erated and loved that ever since his time white 
wheels on a red ground have been the arms of the 
bishops of Mayence. 

One of the exits of the cathedral opens on the 
Liebfrauen-Kirche; but we had to forego the 
pleasure and profit of visiting this church, and 
hurry past the statue of Gutenberg, mentally 
asking the old inventor of printing if he had known 
all that has been brought about by printing, would 
he have given his invention to the world. 

Boarding the steamer, we noticed that clouds 
were lowering, and by the time we were well under 
way a soft rain was falling. We gathered in a 
sheltered place on the upper deck, and were 
fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of 
an American priest, who knew the Rhine as well 
as he did the Hudson; so it was delightful to 
study the moving panorama, as he pointed out 
places of interest, and told us pretty legends con- 
nected with them. At first we were somewhat 
disappointed in the Rhine; but when the castles 
and ruins began to appear, and we passed pictu- 
resque heights and openings and smiling valleys, 
where numberless monasteries and churches spoke 
to us, eloquently though silently, of centuries of 
prayer as well as of history, we fell under the 
spell, and we were ready to believe we heard the 
voices of the Lorelei. 

86 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

At Bingen, we remembered that "soldier of the 
legion" whose reiterated 

For I was born at Bingen — at Bingen on the Rhine 
once had power to move us to elocutionary elo- 
quence. It was the story of Hatto, a rich ruler 
some say a bishop, that we heard here. In the 
middle of the river is a small island, and on it is 
a sort of tower, which tradition says Hatto had 
built so that all ships could be stopped in the 
narrow passage and be made to pay toll. One 
year a poor harvest brought want to the people, 
and they went to the landlord, who had gathered 
stores of corn, and begged him to sell to them at 
a low rate. Rather than do this he set fire to his 
granaries, and lo! thousands of mice came out of 
the burning barns, overran the palace, and at last 
attacked Hatto himself. Everyone fled from the 
place, and the ruler rushed to a boat and sought 
safety in his tower. But the mice followed him 
across the stream and finally devoured the un- 
happy man. However, this is but legend; history 
does not record such inhumanity in the life of 
Hatto, ruler or prelate. 

Just beyond Bingen, an American flag floated 
to the breeze from Castle Schonberg; and we 
were told that the estate belongs to a New York 
family. Several Americans were on board, and 
there was loving pride in the salute we gave as we 
passed the Stars and Stripes way up on those 
Rhine hills. 

The pretty story of the Drachenfels came next. 
87 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

It was after we had left Bonn that our attention 
was called to a group of seven peaks, and to the 
ruins of an old castle. It seems that in the first 
centuries of Christianity, certain tribes among the 
Germans accepted the new teachings, while others 
rejected them. A heathen horde, having attacked 
a Christian settlement, carried off several prisoners, 
among them a beautiful maiden, who was claimed 
by two of the chiefs. A quarrel was imminent, 
when a pagan priest interposed, declaring that 
the maiden should, in honor of Woden, be delivered 
to the dragon. The custom was to offer human 
sacrifice to a dragon which appeared periodically. 
Bound to a tree, the maiden was left to await her 
fate. The scaly beast came from his cave in the 
mountain (hence the name " Drachenfels ") and 
approached the trembling girl. In an agony 
of fear, she drew her arm from the bonds and 
held toward the monster a golden crucifix which 
hung on a chain about her neck. With a roar, 
the dragon fled, dashed over the jagged rocks 
and disappeared in the river. All saw that it was 
the power of the God of the Christians that had 
saved her. She was given back to her people, 
but soon returned with missionaries, and the whole 
tribe was converted. 

Close to these same Seven Mountains a lovely 
valley is pointed out as the scene of a story similar 
to the one about the Monk Felix, told by Long- 
fellow in "The Golden Legend." To a pious 
but doubting monk of Heisterbach, three hundred 

88 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

years passed as the dream of a night; and when 
he returned to the monastery the cloister annals 
had to be searched to discover who this Brother 
Maurus was. He had learned the truth of the 
words of the psalmist, "A thousand years are but 
as a day in Thy sight." 

No one will hold the opinion that the Germans 
are wanting in fancy if he reads the folklore of 
the Rhine region. It is romantic, and much of 
it is beautifully informed with Christian and Cath- 
olic symbolism. Every separate height and every 
valley has its legend; the sites of monasteries 
and churches were miraculously pointed out to 
the founders thereof, and elves and goblins still 
watch the Nibelungen treasure. 

After a delightful, if rainy, day, we reached 
Cologne too late for sight-seeing, but in good time 
for dinner. In the reading-room of the Hotel 
Disch we regaled ourselves with news gleaned from 
the Paris edition of the New York Herald, and read 
to one another hotel arrivals from the United 
States. Mary gravely announced: "John Smith, 
New York, at the Palais d'Orsay." And when 
Catherine asked her if she knew him, she replied: 
"This John Smith is the greatest common mul- 
tiple of the Smith family that we all know." 

In the morning we set out for the Dom. We 
had on our list: the cathedral, St. Ursula's, a 
general view of the city, and a stop for the purchase 
of some genuine *Farina. To compass this we 
had only a few hours, but we felt that we should 

89 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

get more than enough out of even a hurried visit 
to repay us. We reached the Dom in time for 
Holy Mass, and at its close we wished to view 
the treasures of this great Gothic edifice; but 
sextons, in red robes and carrying maces, allowed 
no moving around until the conclusion of a Mass 
which was being offered in one of the side chapels. 
It was the birthday of the Emperor of Austria, 
and the members of the Austrian Legation were 
present in a body at the Mass in honor of the oc- 
casion. The cathedral is vast and very striking. 
Its history covers centuries ; and one realizes the fact 
as one tries to get an adequate impression. Every- 
thing is on a massive scale. The stained-glass 
windows are wonders of beauty, and are prayer 
and homage in glorious color. The carved-wood 
choir stalls, the mural paintings, the silken tap- 
estries, the mosaic pavement, the Chapel of the 
Magi, the Chapel of Our Lady, with its "Assump- 
tion" by Overbeck, — all charm the eye and thrill 
the soul. In the Treasury is to be seen, among 
other precious relics, the golden "Reliquary of 
the Magi"; it is in the form of a miniature church 
and contains the bones of the Magi, or Three Kings. 
There are many stories related in connection 
with the building of this wonderful church; and, 
though lately there have been rumors that the 
structure is badly in need of repairs, and is indeed 
hardly safe, there is a sense of endurance about 
the Dom that gives it, as far as the tourist is con- 
cerned, a sort of immortality. 

90 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Hurrying to the Church of St. Ursula, we were 
privileged to kneel at the tomb of the saint, and 
to see the treasury, or "Goldene Kammer," where 
the relics of thousands of God's servants are honored. 
Shrines, reliquaries, ornamentation, etc., are rich 
in gold, silver, and precious gems. St. Ursula 
and her heroic band of virgins have here worthy 
remembrance. Sister Pulcheria, our German 
teacher at St. Rose's, often spoke to us in our 
''German conversation hour" of Cologne, and many 
of the points of interest that we passed seemed 
almost familiar to us. One of Mary's favorite 
stories was recalled when we drove by the Apostles' 
Church; for, facing the Neumarket, affixed to 
the upper story of a high building were two horses' 
heads, and the legendary event thus commem- 
orated is as follows: 

During a siege of the plague in Cologne, in the 
fourteenth century, the wife of a prominent knight 
was stricken with what all supposed was death. 
She was interred in the Apostles' Church, but 
was wakened from her trance when a thievish 
grave digger tried to remove a ring from her finger. 
Robed in her grave-clothes, she went to the house 
of her husband, who, thinking he beheld an ap- 
parition, declared he would sooner believe that 
his horses could ascend to the loft of his house 
than that his departed wife should return to him 
in the flesh. At once, the legend goes on to say, 
horses' hoofs were heard mounting the stairs, 
and their heads were speedily seen looking out 

9i 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of a window in the upper story of the house. The 
lady was graciously received, we are told; and 
ever since the horses' heads have marked the 
building. 

Our last stop was at the shop of Johann Maria 
Farina, where, we were assured, the genuine " Eau 
de Cologne" was to be had. Here we laid in a 
stock of this delicate perfume; bottles large and 
small were added to our luggage; and as we made 
our way to the station to take our train for Paris 
we realized the fitness of Mary's farewell to " Cologne, 
city of sweet memories." Before long we had 
the fragrant burden packed safely in our suit-cases; 
and we then turned our attention to the orderly, 
methodical, carefully cultivated farm-lands and 
vineyards of Germany, which we were passing; 
noting also the cosy homes with tiled roofs, many 
of the houses bearing on the chimney that sign 
of good luck, a stork's nest. 

Catherine had aired her German in this the 
Rhine trip, and Aunt Margaret was kept busy 
explaining the use of idioms in place of cumber- 
some dictionary-made phrases. In Paris we were 
all three of us supposed to show that we 
had "passed" in our French examinations. As 
to our powers of conversation in the language 
of France, we were not without misgivings; but 
when, on our arrival in Paris, Mary addressed 
the cabman as cochon instead of cocher, we at once 
became deferentially silent, and allowed Aunt 
Margaret to do the talking in French. 

92 



X. 

NE of Aunt Margaret's favorite writers 
I fS 1 declares tnat ^ ne were a general literary 
^\m Czar he would issue an ukase some- 
thing like this: "No traveller shall 
print anything about any country whose language 
he can not speak." And these words served as 
a splendid text for some points that our wise 
chaperon felt were needed. Aunt Margaret never 
tired of assuring us that we were not really seeing 
the countries or cities we visited, and that we 
were not learning anything of the people. A flying 
trip, such as we were making, could give only 
a bird's-eye view, with high-lights on the show 
places. Of course we realized this in a general 
way, as Aunt Margaret spoke of it on our journey 
from Cologne to Paris; but we realized it in a 
particular manner when we tried to shape im- 
pressions after our return home, and found our 
note-books the most unsatisfactory of guide-books, 
not even having the saving grace of accuracy 
which is supposed to characterize a Baedeker. 
Too often it is true, as Mr. Charles Lummis says, 
that the conclusions set forth by tourists might 
be termed the "uninspired guesses of a travelled 
bat." With this in mind, even schoolgirls abroad, 
their enthusiasm notwithstanding, must keep to 
the path worn smooth by the feet of tourists. 
So much for an introduction to our stay in Paris. 

93 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

We reached this very human city, this heart 
of France, late Saturday night; and, driving to 
our hotel in the Quai d'Orsay, we got our first 
impressions of Paris under the gleam of electric 
lights. Late as the hour was, we stopped at the 
desk to inquire for mail, which Mary seized, re- 
fusing to let us see from whom the letters were 
until we had reached our rooms; there we sat 
around and had a real "home-news feast," almost 
forgetting that we were in Paris. 

Sunday morning we directed our steps to the 
nearest church for early Mass, and it happened 
to be that of St. Clotilde, very beautiful and very 
impressive. The stained-glass windows, the paint- 
ings in the chapels, the bas-reliefs on the choir- 
screen, and the carved choir-stalls, called for more 
than passing notice. Having heard and read 
of religious conditions in France, we hardly knew 
what to expect in the churches; but we were 
agreeably surprised to see even the aisles crowded, 
and there were almost as many men as women 
at Mass. We noted also three different Orders 
of nuns in the congregation, and with them groups 
of young girls attired in uniform. Every day 
we were in Paris we saw priests wearing soutanes 
in the street; and religious, alone or in twos, walk- 
ing or riding in the omnibuses, or in the shops. 

The faith and hope of the French nuns, as Aunt 
Margaret beautifully said, are excelled only by 
their love of God and their trust in Him. Their 
reliance on Providence is truly touching. We 

94 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

called on the Sisters of Charity in the Rue du 
Bac; and though, one after another, more than 
sixty of their schools had been closed, and any 
day orders might come for the Sisters to disband, 
they were as calm as if all were well. The superior 
whom we saw shrugged her shoulders, smiled 
peacefully, if wistfully, and said: ''It is the will 
of the good God. What would you?" 

But to go back to St. Clotilde's. During the 
Mass two collections were taken up. The eccle- 
siastic who carried the velvet receptacle for con- 
tributions was preceded by a vested major-domo- 
like official, who carried a staff as he led the way. 
The first round, at every few steps, he said: "Pour 
I'Eglise/" and before the second collection: "Pour 
les pauvresf" This seemed a custom in most 
of the churches. In one or two, ladies of the con- 
gregation took up the collection for the poor, 
and laymen that for the use of the prie-dieus, 
or for the church. After Mass we examined the 
choir chapels, and again we were surprised at 
the respectful bearing of soldiers and gendarmes, 
several of whom we observed genuflecting with 
the utmost reverence as they passed before the 
Blessed Sacrament. 

For High Mass we went to the Madeleine, passing 
on our way the Place de la Concorde. The Mad- 
eleine faces a short street, the Rou Royale, and is 
Greek in appearance, though the guide-book says 
it is built in the style of a Roman temple. The 
church has no windows, and is surrounded by a 

95 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

colonnade of Corinthian columns ornamented with 
thirty-four statues of saints. The interior is a 
splendor of white and gold; paintings, sculptures, 
and side chapels are impressively beautiful. Napo- 
leon wished it to be a temple of glory in honor 
of the French soldiers who fell in the Russian 
wars. Louis XVIII. thought it meet to be an 
expiatory church in memory of Louis XVI. and 
Marie Antoinette. Such a memorial was erected 
on the site of the old cemetery of the Madeleine, 
where the remains of those two ill-fated rulers 
rested for a few years before they were finally 
taken to the royal vault at St. Denis. 

The Place de la Concorde is an interesting court, 
or square. Standing in the centre facing the Mad- 
eleine, one has the Chamber of Deputies back of 
one; the Garden of the Tuileries leading to the 
Louvre on the right; the Champs- Ely sees leading 
to the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, on the left. 
In the square itself is the great red granite Obelisk 
of Luxor, on each side of which is a large fountain. 
Around the Place, on high pedestals, are eight 
groups in stone, representing the chief cities of 
France, that standing for Strassburg draped in 
mourning. The Place de la Concorde is fitly named, 
when we look at it to-day and see the peaceful 
crowds lingering near the sparkling fountains; 
but not so long ago it was called the Place de 
la Revolution, and appropriately; for here was 
raised the guillotine on which were executed Louis 
XVI., Marie Antoinette, Charlotte Corday, Robes- 

96 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

pierre, and many, many others. There were streams 
of blood to be seen then. Indeed, everywhere in 
Paris one comes upon scenes that are fraught 
with memories, We thought we knew our history 
of France when we studied at St. Rose's, but we 
learned it in a very different way when in Paris. 
The Garden of the Tuileries (so called because 
tile factories once occupied the site,) between this 
historic square and the Louvre, is a great park, 
with fountains, terraced lawns, flower beds, stat- 
uary, and winding paths under noble trees', with 
benches and chairs here and there. Old soldiers 
are custodians of this beautiful park; and they, 
or members of their families, are always on hand 
to collect the small fee asked for the use of the 
chairs. The benches seem to be free for the public; 
the chairs are enjoyed at a cost of fifteen centimes 
(three cents). 

Near the Arc du Carrousel— modelled after the 
arch of Septimus Severus at Rome, and once 
adorned with the famous horses from St. Mark's, 
Venice, which in 1814 were returned to the little 
Republic,— crowds are to be seen at almost all 
hours, watching with interest "the sparrow-man," 
as Catherine named him. In some way this man 
has charmed the sparrows, and at his command 
they flutter about him, perch on his hand, fly 
down when he tells them to do so, "play dead," 
and go through wonderful evolutions for birds. 
Of course the sparrow-man's hat is passed around 
frequently; but that is to be expected, and it is 

97 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

worth half a franc to see English sparrows made 
to mind. 

The Champs-Elysees, on the other side of the 
Place de la Concorde, is a small park opening into 
a broad avenue. It is a place of promenade, and 
on both sides are cafes-chantants and restaurants. 
Here and elsewhere in Paris people sit at small 
tables arranged out of doors; and to see and hear 
them one would think Paris had never known a 
Reign of Terror. The Avenue des Champs-Elysees 
leads to the Arch of Triumph, a massive structure 
commemorating the military prowess of Napoleon, 
who dominates Paris to this day. From the Place 
de l'Etoile radiate twelve avenues; and to stand 
at this point for a few moments is to see all Paris 
pass, — at least all that figure in the "Who's Who" 
of the city; for beyond the arch stretches the 
Avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne, the Rotten Row or 
the Riverside Drive of Paris. This beautiful park 
covers more than two thousand acres, is densely 
wooded, and parts of it are laid out in flower beds; 
it includes several small lakes, an artificial cascade, 
the race-track, hothouses, etc. Through it are 
fine roadways, cycle and foot paths; and it is 
little wonder that all Paris flocks to this setting 
for a modern "As You Like It." 

Every day for a week we went sight-seeing, 
usually taking a cab in order to expedite matters. 
Horses, cabs and drivers are among the interest- 
ing objects in Paris. Two or three times we used 
a taxicab, one in which a metre confronts the 

98 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

occupants of the conveyance, who thus witness 
their bill mounting up. Mary finally objected, 
declaring that watching the needle register one 
franc, two francs, three francs, etc., kept her from 
enjoying the beauties and wonders that we passed; 
and she further declared that she noticed the 
needle calmly moving on when our cab had been 
brought to a stand to wait the passing of a pro- 
cession. We found the drivers courteous, however, 
especially when they knew Aunt Margaret would 
remember in paying to add the expected pour 
boire. 

One of our first visits was to the Cathedral of 
Notre Dame, which, from its foundation in 1163, 
on the site of a church dating back to the fourth 
century, down to the present day, has had a varied 
history. In 1793, the Goddess of Reason was set 
up for worship in the sanctuary of this church, and 
our Blessed Lady's statue was replaced by one of 
Liberty. The facade presents subjects for study 
in the three portals, with pointed arches, rich in 
carving; the row of statues just above, with over 
them the central rose-window, flanked by two 
lateral windows, "like the priest and his deacon 
and subdeacon"; the gallery of pointed arches, 
ornamented with gargoyles, that forms the third 
section or story of the front; and, lastly, the 
two incompleted square towers. Just within the 
vestibule we came upon two kneeling figures, — 
one a nun, the other a lady richly attired; they 
knelt facing the aisle, each holding a velvet bag 

99 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

marked "For the poor"; and so impersonal did 
they seem, so utterly motionless as they knelt 
there with eyes downcast, one might take them 
for statues. 

The interior of the cathedral is imposing, with 
nave and side aisles marked off by rows of columns, 
sixty-one on each side. The choir and sanctuary 
are cut off by an iron railing. The high altar of 
Parian marble, the choir-screen and stalls, the 
tassellated pavement, the side chapels (thirty- 
seven in number, most of them commemorative 
of former bishops of Paris), the old statue of Notre- 
Dame de Paris, the Pieta in marble, known as 
"the Vow of Louis XIII.," — all are interesting in 
themselves, and doubly so by reason of associa- 
tions, historical and other. While standing in front 
of the choir, one could easily, in imagination, see 
Napoleon I. placing the imperial crown on his 
own head and then on the head of the Empress 
Josephine, in presence of Pope Pius VII. Did the 
stately Empress on that fateful day hear no pro- 
phetic minor chords sounding from the great organ 
as it rang forth, or in the "Jubilate" of the deep- 
toned "Bourdon," the great bell, as it thundered 
over the city? 

Not far from the cathedral is the Sainte-Chapelle, 
a gem of Gothic architecture. It was erected by 
St. Louis for the reception of sacred relics brought 
from the Holy Land in 1239. In its present 
restored form, it is a marvel of beauty. As one 
stands at the entrance in the rear of the chapel, 

100 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

the walls seem sheets of topaz, ruby and emerald, 
as the light shimmers in through the fifteen large 
windows, 49 by 13 feet each. Mary waxed poetic 
in this spectrum shower, and declared that it was 
a chapel of imprisoned rainbows. 

Where else did we go? Where do all visitors in 
Paris go? We visited St. Btienne du Mont, where 
we knelt at the tomb of St. Genevieve; Notre- 
Dame des Victoires, commemorative of the capture 
of La Rochelle; the Church of St. Roch, in front 
of which Napoleon won his first military laurels; 
the Church of the Sorbonne, in the transept of 
which is Richelieu's tomb; St. Germain des Pres, 
one of the ancient churches of Paris, containing, 
among other relics of centuries gone by, a marble 
statue of Notre-Dame de Consolation, given to 
the Abbey of St. Denis by Queen Jeanne d'Kvreaux 
in 1340. These are only a few of the churches 
marked in our guide-book and cherished in our 
memory as places of special interest. Two others — 
the Pantheon, and the Sacre Coeur on the summit 
of Montmartre — must later be spoken of at greater 
length. 

Meanwhile, as we drove or walked on our errands 
of sight-seeing, we came to know the streets and 
bridges, those scenes of human activity; and we 
became more or less familiar with the outdoor 
life assembled in the parks and squares, around 
the monuments and along the curbs where the 
flower-markets are held. Among the monuments 
of special significance are, of course, the Colonne 

101 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

ac Juillet, the Colonne Vendome, and the triumphal 
arches before referred to. In addition to these, 
there are innumerable statues in honor of celeb- 
rities as widely separated in spirit as iJ anton and 
Pasteur, the Abbe de l'Kpee and Voltaire, Joan of 
Arc and George Sand. Needless to say, our weary 
emotions rose to the occasion when we saw a 
statue of Washington and one of Franklin. We 
moralized, of course, over the equestrian statue 
of Henry IV. erected in 1818 to replace one which 
in 1792 had been melted down and converted 
into cannon. Louis XVIII., in retaliation, caused 
the statue of Napoleon on the Vendome Column 
to be melted down in order to provide metal for 
this monument! 

One of the most satisfactory ways of seeing 
the panoramic streets of Paris is to drive from 
point to point on top of an omnibus. Soon one 
becomes a part of the moving picture, with its 
light and color, sound and movement. It is a 
fascinating picture, full of such contrasts as only 
France can present. The bookstalls along the 
Quai d'Orsay served as another place of vantage 
for observation; and one evening, after we had 
exhausted Aunt Margaret with questions, and 
ourselves with superlatives in the way of admira- 
tion and exclamation, trying to voice our impres- 
sions, Mary summed it all up in these words: "My, 
but the French people certainly are Frenchy!" 



102 



XI. 



fHK story of the Pantheon in Paris is the 
story of the vicissitudes that France has 
suffered in the last century and a half. 
In 1764, the church known as the Pantheon 
was erected on the ruins of an old edifice dedicated 
to the honor of St. Genevieve. Clovis and his Queen 
built the original chapel on this site; Louis XV. 
raised the present majestic temple. In 1791, the 
cross was removed by the "Convention," and a 
pagan bas-relief was substituted. The Pantheon 
was the new name given the Church of St. Gene- 
vieve, which was converted into a sort of hall 
of fame, or memorial temple for France's "illus- 
trious dead." Mirabeau and Voltaire were the first 
to be interred here. In 1806, the building was 
restored to religious uses; in 1830, it was again 
secularized; in 1851, it was once more consecrated, 
only to be seized for military purposes in 1870, 
when the vaults of the church were used as storage 
places for ammunition; and it was finally given 
over to the secular authorities in 1885, when Victor 
Hugo was buried within its precincts. 

The Pantheon is in the form of a Greek cross 
and is surmounted by a dome. A colonnade of 
twenty-two fluted Corinthian columns gives it the 
appearance of a Grecian temple. Under the portico 
are two significant groups in marble : St. Genevieve 
imploring Attila to spare Paris, and the Baptism 

103 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of Clovis by St. Remigius. The interior is unlike 
other churches because of a colonnade and a 
gallery-like elevation on each side. The paintings 
illustrate the religious history of France, and 
include representations of every phase in the 
beautiful life of St. Genevieve, the martyrdom of 
St. Denis, Joan of Arc, St. Louis administering 
justice, founding the Sorbonne, etc. Because of 
our acquaintance with the mural decorations in 
the Boston library, we were especially interested 
in the works of Puvis de Chavannes in the Pan- 
theon, among them the childhood of St. Genevieve, 
St. Genevieve watching over besieged Paris, and 
St. Genevieve bringing provisions to Paris. 

From the Pantheon we drove to Pere Lachaise, 
the famous Parisian cemetery, named after Lachaise, 
confessor of Louis XIV. It covers about one 
hundred and ten acres, and is a very crowded 
City of the Dead. The principal avenue, bordered 
by cypress trees, leads to a general memorial, 
intitled Monument aux Morts, carved out of a 
block of limestone, and representing a tomb toward 
which a multitude presses. We wandered here 
and there along the narrow walks, noting names 
we knew or ought to know. Among them were 
Faure, Thiers, and Marshal Ney; Rosa Bonheur, 
De Musset, Balzac, Daudet, La Fontaine, and 
Emile Souvestre; Chopin, Corot, Daubigny, and 
of course Abelard and Heloise. Pretentious mon- 
uments and simple headstones are neighbors in 
this quiet place. The roses planted within iron 

104 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

railings that enclose the resting-place of some 
great man creep out and deck the humble, un- 
marked grave adjoining. Everywhere are there 
signs of Catholic faith and hope; the cross is carved 
in stone, wrought in iron, and woven in flowers 
in Pere Lachaise. France is Catholic at heart and 
always will be. 

As we left the cemetery we met a party whom 
we had encountered three times in our short tour: 
at a stop near the Vatican, at the Uffizi in Florence, 
and at the Academy in Venice. Among them were 
a dear little American lady and her husband, and 
it was like meeting old friends to see them in Paris. 
We stopped long enough to exchange a few amus- 
ing experiences, and to renew promises of keeping 
in touch after the summer. Mary's grievance, as 
told to Mr. and Mrs. W — , was her disapproval 
of Paris telephones. The first day at the hotel 
she saw what she supposed was a telephone; there 
was a receiver, but no visible mouthpiece, the 
receiver being attached to a panel of perforated 
wood. Her tendency to research work, as she 
called it, led her to investigate; and, taking up 
the receiver, she heard a response. In dismay, 
she asked us what she should talk into, where- 
upon the clerk in the office replied: "Talk to the 
board." So she asked that a maid be sent to the 
room. "What is wanted?" persisted the voice. — 
"To arrange for a bath," was the answer. — "What 
kind of a bath, large or small?" was the next 
query, to which Mary told the board, "Large." 

105 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

And lo! before we had finished laughing and com- 
paring our telephones and those used in Paris, 
a maid announced, "The bath waits." 

We spent some interesting hours in the Bon 
Marche, which we found like some of our large 
department stores, — not the best ones, however; 
for Macy's in New York, Marshall Field's in 
Chicago, and Wanamaker's in Philadelphia, we 
decided, are superior in many ways. We surely 
met the World and his wife at the Bon Marche, 
and they preceded us to the Magasin du Louvre; 
for there we found a like crowd. This Louvre 
displays art creations that appeal to many who 
find little of charm in the Louvre gallery. We 
indulged in Paris finery, having one eye on our 
purse and the other on a prospective New York 
Custom House inspector. 

We did not pretend to see a tithe of the art 
treasures of the Louvre; Aunt Margaret noted 
a few not to be missed, so we gave our time to 
getting a general appreciation of the wonderful 
collection, and a special appreciation of pictures 
such as Leonardo da Vinci's "Virgin of the Rocks," 
and his "Mona Lisa"; Raphael's "La Belle Jar- 
diniere" and his "St. Michael"; Correggio's "Mar- 
riage of St. Catherine"; Titian's "Madonna with 
the Rabbit"; Murillo's "Immaculate Conception"; 
representative paintings by Van Dyck, Memling, 
Rubens, Frans Hals, Teniers, Rembrandt, Gains- 
borough, Constable and Romney; Poussin, Le 
Brun, Claude Lorrain, Greuze, Corot, Daubigny, 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Scheffer, and Millet. We spent hours in the Louvre, 
and might have spent as many weeks to advantage. 
The Luxembourg art treasures also called for 
several visits, but our time-schedule was inexorable. 

One thing that impressed us all in our passing 
study of the art collections in Italy and in France — 
after Aunt Margaret had called our attention to 
it — was the fact that the best art has ever been 
the outcome of religion, and no subject has appealed 
more to true artists than has our Blessed Lady. 
We could not help thinking how much those who 
do not know her or love her lose in the churches 
and art galleries of Europe. Of course, true art 
always awakens a certain reverence. Walt Whit- 
man once said: "I could not stand before a Millet 
picture with my hat on." But there is a higher, 
nobler reverence than that, and only the Catholic 
heart truly feels it when before a work of art that 
has a spiritual significance. 

Versailles was our objective point one day, 
and our sight-seeing included the Palace of 
Versailles, the Grand Trianon, and the Petit Tri- 
anon. These three structures in a vast park or 
series of parks are marvels of beauty and are full 
of historic interest. The Grand Trianon was built 
for Madame de Maintenon by Louis XIV.; the 
Petit Trianon was a favorite resort of Marie 
Antoinette. The garden adjoining is where this 
queen played at dairymaid. The Palace of Ver- 
sailles, with its memories of Louis XIV., Louis 
XV., and Louis XVI., is a place to dream in because 

107 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of its beauty, and to meditate in because of its 
tragic associations. The royal apartments, with 
exquisitely ornamented ceilings, tapestried and 
panelled walls, and furniture especially designed, 
are magnificent indeed. 

The Galerie des Glaces is a miracle of beauty; 
it is 235 feet long, is lighted by seventeen large 
windows, opposite which are as many mirrors in 
Venetian frames. The gilded cornice is a setting 
for a richly painted ceiling. Another wonderful 
apartment is the Galerie des Batailles, adorned 
with thirty-four large paintings of scenes from 
the history of France, and busts of eighty cele- 
brated men of France who fell in defence of their 
country. It was with something of sadness that we 
stood in the gallery from which Louis XVI. and 
his queen looked upon the mob which clamored 
for the blood of the royal family. Poor France, 
never so poor as now, since she has thrown away 
the crucifix! 

The tomb of Napoleon I. is a place of pilgrimage 
for all visitors to Paris. Under the dome of the 
church of St. Louis des Invalides his ashes rest. 
In the centre of an open circular crypt is a sar- 
cophagus hewn out of a single block of Siberian 
porphyry; within is an ebony casket containing 
all that remains of him whose name caused cheeks 
to blanch and whose power was felt throughout 
Europe. The pavement of the crypt is of mosaic, 
representing a wreath of laurels, while on an inner 
circle are inscribed the great victories he won 

108 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

for France. Battle-flags, reliefs and statues tell 
the story of his life. The entrance to the crypt 
is guarded by soldiers of the Legion of Honor, 
and they are proud to stand at the great doors 
made from cannon taken at Austerlitz. From 
the top of the dome filters down God's light in 
golden glory upon the high altar and upon the 
tomb that is at once a monument to Napoleon 
and a lesson to all who look upon its lonely grandeur. 

Fortunately, the relics of forgotten glory do 
not depress one for long. We felt their impressive- 
ness, but we had experiences in between that 
kept us normally cheerful. To sit at a dainty 
table, in front of a cafe, and enjoy an ice, rested 
us after a strenuous afternoon of sight-seeing; 
while to hear one of our countrywomen talk of 
having ordered some "Louis Cart-horse" furniture 
for her Cincinnati house made us forget even our 
feet, which is saying a great deal, as any one 
knows who has spent hours walking in slippery 
galleries or on the hard mosaic floors of churches. 
Worth and Laferriere are not to be neglected in 
a visit to the French capital, and our little party 
did not neglect them; for just to see superbly 
graceful models wearing gowns offered at fabulous 
prices is an object-lesson in itself. Lubin and 
Pinaud also are an attraction to Americans, and 
the boxes in which we brought home their wares 
are yet a fragrant memory of Paris. 

The afternoon before our departure we visited 
the Church of the Sacred Heart, Montmartre. 

109 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

High up over the city this basilica towers, a mon- 
ument to the faith and piety of the French people, 
and a constant prayer to God for France. The 
temple was built by popular subscription; and 
flags, sodality banners, and other votive offerings 
tell of pilgrimages from provinces near and remote. 
The great bell of the church, weighing thirty-two 
tons, was the gift of the people of Savoy, and 
was christened "Savoyarde." There is perpetual 
exposition of the Blessed Sacrament at the Sacre 
Coeur; and when one looks from the portal of the 
church over the city, one feels an assured hope 
that Our Lady will not forget the land that has 
so honored her and her Divine Son. 

That evening — our last in Paris — we determined 
on a drive in the Bois; and, trusting to the fact 
that it was an American product, we took with 
us, unknown to Aunt Margaret, a box of Huyler's 
that Mary had found in a shop in the Rue Daunou. 
The box looked antique enough to insure it a place 
in the Luxembourg; but it was Huyler's, and 
even Aunt Margaret enjoyed it, after we got to 
a quiet side road in the Bois. Catherine had hailed 
the carriage, and it was not until we were on the 
Champs Hlysee that we noticed our steed. Horse 
and driver looked as if they had taken part in 
the retreat from Moscow. Smart equipages, elegant 
family carriages, gorgeous automobiles swept by 
us; but our Pegasus ambled along, with no sign 
of equine pride in his bony old frame. In vain 
we urged our driver to take a less public road; 

no 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

unperturbed, he drove on and on, until the humor 
of it came to the rescue and we leaned back and 
took our pleasure, not even minding when he 
stopped to rest the horse opposite the Cascades. 
Our last morning in France, we went to the 
Madeleine to Mass, called at the Herald office to 
see if by any chance there were letters for us, 
stopped for a fragrant moment at a flower-market 
(Mary investing in a boutonniere for each of us); 
and then, having exchanged our French francs 
for English shillings, we took train for Calais. We 
had seen Paris the beautiful, the fascinating; and 
when our coin of the Fountain of Trevi brings us 
again to Rome, we are coming back to Paris. 



in 



X 



XII. 



T noon we left Paris for Calais, but not 
even an express train can take one's 
thoughts from the entrancing French 
capital; so we thought Paris and talked 
Paris for a long time, to the neglect of the beauti- 
ful and historic country through which we were 
speeding. A remark of Aunt Margaret's, however, 
had the desired effect; and soon Catherine was 
talking like a book about the "Field of the Cloth 
of Gold," the Battle of Cressy, Henry V. and 
Agincourt, until Mary, in martial measure, recited: 
Upon St. Crispin's Day- 
Fought was this noble fray, 
Which fame did not delay- 
To England to carry. 
O when shall Englishmen 
With such acts fill a pen? 
Or England breed again 
Such a King Harry? 

None of us were in sympathy with the sentiments 
of this poem; and Mary, to show that she had 
learned Drayton's ode by rote rather than by 
heart, sided with us and gave us Arnold's sonnet 
on Calais Beach. 

At four we reached Calais, where The Queen 
was waiting to take us across to Dover, twenty-one 
miles distant. In the bustle of changing from train 
to boat, we had little time to think; yet we dimly 
remembered that England held dominion over this 

112 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

French port for two hundred years; and, further, 
we recalled Queen Mary's declaration that, when 
she died, Calais would be found written on her 
heart. 

The channel was choppy, so we were glad to 
have a cabin to ourselves. The passage took only 
an hour and twenty minutes, but there was not 
much hilarity in the crossing. Everyone on board 
was engaged with his own thoughts and— but 
why record unpleasant memories? Mary's one 
comment was: "It is a wonder the soldiers of 
Henry V. didn't throw up their allegiance and 
their arms before they reached France!" We had 
intended to enjoy the approach to Dover; and 
Catherine had reminded us to observe the Cliffs, 
of which mention is made in "King Lear." But 
we sat in chastened quiet until the boat was 
moored, when with due alacrity we transferred 
ourselves and our baggage first to terra firma, then 
to the train which was to take us to London. 
Dusk had fallen by the time we started, so we 
did not see much of the country through which 
we passed; and at 8 p. m. we arrived in great, 
seething, wonderful London. 

The next morning, Sunday, we hied us forth 
early in search of a church, and to our delight 
we found that our hotel was only a short distance 
from the new Catholic Cathedral of Westminster. 
Here we embraced the opportunity offered, went 
to confession, assisted at Mass, and received Holy 
Communion in the Lady Chapel. Later, we 

113 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

returned to examine at leisure this monument to 
the zeal of the late Cardinal Vaughan. 

Perhaps it grows on one, but, somehow, none 
of us admired the exterior of this great mother 
church of the English Catholic people. It is early 
Christian Byzantine; and its campanile, turrets, 
minarets and four domes, as well as the material 
of the structure — red brick with white stone in 
transverse layers, — give it a showy, Oriental 
appearance, in striking contrast with the noble 
Gothic cathedrals we had visited. The interior, 
however, is very impressive; and, when finished, 
Westminster will be a magnificent temple. The 
sweep of nave and aisles, the splendid sanctuary 
and choir, the spacious chapels of the Blessed 
Sacrament and of Our Lady, — all give an impres- 
sion of vastness and of strength; and the beauty 
of the finished parts gradually makes itself felt. 
The immense columns are marvels in themselves. 
Among them are monoliths of verde antico from 
Thessaly; of cipollino from Switzerland and Kubcea; 
of breccia marbles, purple and grey and yellow, 
from Verona; of red marble from Languedoc, 
and of grey granite from Norway. The walls of 
the sanctuary are of exquisite marble, varying 
from dark Levanto to white Carrara. The high 
altar is one solid stone, weighing twelve tons, of 
grey Cornwall granite. A rich baldachino is planned. 
From the chancel arch hangs a great crucifix, the 
shaft thirty feet long, the figure eighteen feet. 
The majesty of this sign of salvation dominates 

114 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

the whole church. There are to be eleven chapels 
in all; and, as planned, each one will be worthy- 
its setting in the cathedral which marks a new 
era in the history of the Church in England. But 
it is sad, sad, to think of the majestic cathedrals 
and abbeys, once the pride and glory of the Church 
in England, now lonely ruins without the warmth 
and glow of the Living Presence. 

The London cabs are as famous as those of 
Paris, and we found it very pleasant going about 
just seeing the streets, the driver acting as guide 
and information bureau. The very names of the 
streets were of interest: Piccadilly and the Strand, 
Hyde Park and Rotten Row, Brompton Road and 
Soho Square, Pater Noster Row and Ave Maria 
Lane, Fleet Street, Chancery Lane, The Temple, 
Charing Cross, etc. The name Piccadilly was not 
satisfactorily explained, but Rotten Row might 
in the beginning have been Route du Roi. Pall 
Mall was, it is said, Paille Maille, from ball and 
mallet used in a game from which our croquet 
is derived. Pater Noster Row took its name from 
the shops where prints of the "Our Father" and 
other prayers were sold. Pudding Lane was where 
bakers sold their wares. In our tours we learned 
that Milton once lived in Bread Street, and Sir 
Thomas More in Milk Street; while it was in Mitre 
Court that Boswell had his first appointment with 
Johnson. Catherine nearly lost her appetite trying 
to decide what Soho Square connoted to her Amer- 
ican mind. It eluded her, until one morning, 

ii5 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

driving along the Victoria embankment, she saw 
across the Thames an establishment bearing the 
sign "Cross & Blackwell"; then it flashed upon 
her that she had seen Soho Square on "chow- 
chow" bottles; and all along we had thought it 
must be some great historic event she was trying 
to recall. 

In the district called Chelsea, we made a sort 
of literary and artistic pilgrimage; for there, in 
the vicinity of Cheyne Row, we saw the homes 
of George Eliot, Leigh Hunt, Dante Gabriel Ros- 
setti, Turner, Whistler, and Thomas Carlyle. On 
Brompton Road the church of the Oratory was 
pointed out; and in our visit to the Divine Master 
there we did not forget dear Father Faber, its 
first rector. Facing the street at this church is 
a statue of Cardinal Newman. In the other cities 
we had visited, Catholic churches were in the 
majority; but in London we learned that there 
are more than eight hundred and fifty Anglican 
places of worship, and the directories say there 
are six hundred "Nonconformist" churches, this 
number including "about fifty Roman Catholic 
churches and chapels." A guide gave us this piece 
of information one day as we stood in front of 
St. Paul's; and it was a positive relief when an 
American tourist near us, evidently a Catholic, 
said: "Wouldn't that jar you?" We had all we 
could do to keep Mary from thanking him. 

St. Paul's Cathedral was founded in the seventh 
century as a monastery by Egbert of Kent. This 

116 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

was destroyed by fire soon after the Norman con- 
quest, and was replaced by a fine Gothic structure, 
which, in turn, fell a prey to the flames in the 
great fire of 1666. The present building is very 
large, and is interesting in many ways. The 
whispering gallery runs around the inner dome 
of St. Paul's; and a whisper on one side is audible 
on the other, a distance of one hundred and eight 
feet in a straight line. Among the noteworthy 
monuments to be seen are those of Wellington, 
Nelson, General Gordon, and Lord Leighton; and 
the tombs of Sir Christopher Wren, the architect 
of St. Paul's, Turner, Landseer, Reynolds, Laurence, 
Millais, Dean Milman, Lord Napier, Charles Reade, 
and several others. 

Buckingham Palace, the King's London resi- 
dence, and St. James' Palace, the home of the 
Prince of Wales, are of interest to tourists, as are 
also the Houses of Parliament. The site of the 
present buildings is associated with such names 
as King Canute, William the Conqueror, William 
Rufus, Henry II., and Thomas a Becket. In the 
House of Commons, Mary found out where the 
Irish members sit; Catherine wanted to try the 
seat of the Speaker of the House; while we all 
wondered when the Bill changing the Oath of 
Office, prescribed for English rulers, would be 
brought up for discussion and passed in the 
affirmative ! 

The National Gallery was well worth a visit; 
but we could not give a tithe of the time necessary 

117 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

to see the best pictures. The arrangement is 
excellent; for one can easily see and study the 
different schools of painting, rinding representative 
paintings of each country and age grouped together. 
Aunt Margaret liked the Italian painters best, 
Canaletto's "Grand Canal," Guido Reni's "Christ 
and St. John," and Titian's Madonnas. Murillo's 
"Holy Family," too, appealed to her. Catherine 
took to Gainsborough, Reynolds, Teiners, Con- 
stable, and Laurence. Rembrandt, Rubens, Hals 
and Van Dyck attracted me; while Mary Johns 
revelled in Turner's broken spectrums. "The 
Temeraire," "Venice," "Dido and ^neas," and 
"Fire at Sea" she declared her favorites. The 
Landseer pictures recalled to our minds a talk 
that Father Burke once gave us at school. He 
was speaking of Catholic homes, and he said he 
hoped when we had homes of our own that we 
wouldn't have Landseer's dogs, Rosa Bonheur's 
horses and Greek goddesses all over the house, 
with no room for a picture of our Blessed Mother. 
Of course we admired the dogs and horses; but 
the more we saw of art, the more we were drawn 
to pictures inspired by religion, and the more we 
felt their power for good. 

A half day was all we could give to the British 
Museum; but we devoted most of our time there 
to the Grenville Library, where there is a priceless 
series of illuminated MSS., arranged chronologically; 
and in the King's Library, where one can trace the 
history of printing from the days of the Mazarine 

118 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Bible down to the present time. We passed through 
the various departments of the Museum, taking a 
lot of mental kodak pictures; but most of them 
under-exposed, so not worth developing. Of course 
we went to the Tower, and on the way there dis- 
cussed the probable origin of the game that all 
children play — namely, "London Bridge is Falling 
Down." But when we reached the Tower we had 
other things to think of. 

This great prison of bloody memories is really 
a series of towers and keeps beside the Thames. 
We felt the shadow of the past fall over us as we 
walked along the outer ward, its grey stones 
covered with ivy, and toward the Bloody Tower, 
so called because of the murder there of the little 
sons of Edward IV. Beneath this tower is a great 
arched passageway, guarded by an iron portcullis; 
opposite this entrance is the famous Traitors' 
Gate, through which prisoners who were brought 
by water entered the prison place. How many 
hapless victims passed through this Traitors' Gate 
and under the arch of Bloody Tower, — the little 
princes, Lady Jane Grey, Philip Howard, Earl of 
Arundel, Sir Thomas More, Bishop Fisher, and 
many, many others! As we looked down into the 
moat and across at the Traitors' Gate, grey doves 
with iridescent breasts were nestling there, cooing 
softly in the shadows cast by iron spikes and stone 
buttresses. It was a picture to be remembered. 

Passing within the enclosure of the Tower 
grounds, we followed our guide, whose grotesque 

119 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

costume seemed in keeping with the surroundings, 
noting, as we passed, the objects of interest in the 
Oriental Armory, the Horse Armory, the parade 
ground, Beauchamp Tower, Tower Hill, where so 
many executions took place; the Chapel of St. 
Peter in Chains, where many of the victims — the 
saintly Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More among 
them — are buried; and Wakefield Tower, where 
the crown-jewels are kept. Among the treasures 
are the crown used at the coronation of all the 
rulers of England since Charles II.; the Imperial 
State Crown made for Queen Victoria in 1838, 
embellished and enlarged for Edward VII.; the 
Prince of Wales' crown; the Queen Consort's 
crown, made for Mary of Modena; St. Edward's 
staff, carried before the monarch in the coronation 
ceremony; the Royal Sceptre, which the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury places in the sovereign's 
right hand; the Sceptre of the Dove, placed in 
the left hand; the Swords of Mercy and Justice; 
the coronation bracelets and spurs; the anointing 
vessel and spoon, etc., etc. The diamonds studding 
these treasures gave back red glints of blood as 
we looked at them; and we left the Tower grounds 
thinking of Anne Boleyn, Katherine Howard, Sir 
Walter Raleigh, and those prisoners of later date — 
the English martyrs, — whose offence was loyalty 
to the King of kings. All the waters of the Thames 
turned through those ancient gateways could not 
make them clean. 

Still under the spell of the shadows, we walked 
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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

out into the sunlight of the broad road and down 
toward the street. A coach was starting for West- 
minster, our destination; so we took our places 
And Mary broke the chain that bound us to the 
past by calling our attention to the signs posted 
everywhere inside and outside the coach-" Use 
Melhn's Food." London and life are full of just 
such contrasts. J 



121 



: 



XIII. 

ESTMINSTKR ABBEY was near our 
hotel, so we often dropped in. Our 
first visit was disappointing; we en- 
tered by the north transept, and, 
instead of walking on to the nave, and then down 
to the west entrance, from which a good general 
view is obtained, we proceeded to study the mon- 
uments everywhere around us, which was about as 
inspiring and inspiriting as it would be to wander 
through a marble-cutter's yard. Later, Aunt 
Margaret started us right, and we came to have 
more respect for this mortuary church. 

In the first place, its history is interesting, 
dating back as it does to the days of Edward the 
Confessor and the monks of St. Benedict, who made 
the Abbey of Westminster a centre of holy influ- 
ence. Many of the names on the tablets and mon- 
uments in the body of the church are of unimpor- 
tant people; but every now and then one comes 
upon a slab that wakens memories, if not of the 
person commemorated, at least of a text-book 
introduction to him. The west end of the Abbey 
might be called the deanery; for so many deans 
of Westminster rest there, — among them Dean 
Atterbury, who desired to be buried in the Abbey 
"as far from kings and Caesars as the space will 
admit." Not far from this select company are 
tablets to Congreve and to Ann Oldfield, an actress! 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

In the south aisle of the nave is the tomb of Major 
John Andre, who in 1780 was buried on the banks 
of the Hudson; forty years later his remains were 
brought to England at the expense of George III. 
A bas-relief on the monument shows Washington 
receiving Andre's petition for a soldier's death, 
and, beside it, Andre on the way to execution. 

In the north aisle, Herschel and Darwin are in 
company with chancellors, officers, and physicians 
long ago forgotten. The stone in the pavement 
which marked Ben Jonson's grave was wearing 
away, so it is now against the wall, and a slab of 
slate marks the poet's resting-place, which recalled 
the old story that Jonson was buried in an upright 
position. He was so poor that he said he could 
afford only a plot of ground two by two. Three 
interesting names are in the centre of the nave: 
Dean Trench, Livingstone, the African explorer, 
and Sir Isaac Newton. Dr. Watts, the hymn-writer, 
rests in the south aisle of the choir; and Balfe, 
the musician, with others of his art, lies in the 
north aisle. 

Poets' Corner, in the right transept, is the Mecca 
of all tourists. Here are tablets or monuments in 
honor of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dryden, Cowper, 
Cowley, Spenser, Butler, Milton, Burns, Gray, 
Campbell, Southey, Goldsmith, Scott, Tennyson, 
Browning, Longfellow, Macaulay, Addison, Thack- 
eray, and many others. This does not mean that 
those commemorated are buried under the stone 
that honors them. We soon found out that a 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

man might be buried in the nave — as Ben Jonson, 
for instance — and have his name honored in Poets' 
Corner. The bodies of Milton, Gray, and Southey, 
to mention but a few, do not rest in Westminster; 
and Mary regretted for days the thrills she wasted 
before she found this out. The north transept might 
be styled "Statesmen's Corner"; for among the 
monuments are those to Pitt, Peel, Grattan, Dis- 
raeli, and Gladstone. 

The sanctuary and chapels are of special interest 
to lovers of history; for in the shadows of every 
archway, in the aisles and along the walls, there 
are tombs, the mere names on which are, as Cath- 
erine declared, like an examination paper in English 
History. The chapel, built by Henry VII. and 
called after him, though it is really the Lady 
Chapel, is wonderfully beautiful. The carved 
ceiling, the stained-glass windows, the stalls with 
their banners and emblazonings, all are royal in 
their significance. We wandered long in the narrow 
streets of this city of the dead, reflecting on the 
littleness of all the show that made up the lives 
of those now so still under the stones. The tomb 
of Mary Queen of Scots is as a shrine to most 
visitors. In the aisle opposite is the tomb of 
Elizabeth, but there are not many tear-marks on 
her monument. In the same sepulchre is the dust 
of Queen Mary, at whose funeral was celebrated 
the last Requiem Mass said in the Abbey, excepting 
one for Charles V. of Germany; it was ordered 
by Elizabeth a few days later. Henry VII. and 

124 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Elizabeth of York; Edward VI., at whose burial 
the service as prescribed by the English Prayer 
Book was used for the first time; George II. and 
his Queen, and James I., are among the royal 
dead here awaiting the resurrection of the body. 

Back of the high altar is the heart of West- 
minster Abbey — namely, St. Edward's Chapel, 
which contains the shrine enclosing the body of 
St. Edward the Confessor. The royal tomb, often 
despoiled and several times restored, is still held 
in honor by many; but to the Catholic there is a 
deep sense of sorrow that no longer the Sanctus 
Bell is heard in St. Edward's Chapel. The guide 
who recites the virtues of the saint did not pretend 
to hear Mary's stage-whisper: "Who declared 
Edward a saint?" Among others buried in this 
chapel are Queen Editha, Queen Maud, Edward I., 
Henry III., Eleanor of Castile, Henry V. and his 
Queen, Edward III. and Philippa, and Richard II. 
Our prayer at the Confessor's shrine was that 
England may soon return to her old altars and 
the one Sacrifice. 

A trip to Windsor gave us a memorable day. 
It is about an hour's ride from Paddington Station. 
Arriving at Windsor, we stopped for luncheon at 
the White Hart. A party of French people had 
the table to our right, some Italians were back 
of us, at our left was a tall young Turk travelling 
with an English tutor; and it was with this cos- 
mopolitan crowd that we visited the Castle. William 
the Conqueror founded Windsor as a hunting 

125 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

place, though traditions of Saxon rulers are not 
wanting. The Castle, now a beautiful residence 
for the King and Queen, is on an eminence which 
commands a superb view. The guide-book says 
of Windsor: " Trees beard the slope and tuft the 
ridge. Crowning the verdant hill, the Norman 
keep looks northward on a wide and wooded level, 
stretching over many shires, tawny with corn and 
rye, bright with abundant pasture, and the red 
and white of kine and sheep; while here again 
the landscape is embrowned with groves and 
parks." Mary's comment, as Catherine read this 
description, was: "Humph! I'd know that was 
English if it were written in French." The view 
is beautiful and suggestive; stretched before one 
are Eton College, Burnham Wood, the Tower of 
Stoke, Magna Charta Island, and Runnymede. 

We found ourselves recalling stories of kings 
and queens as we passed through the royal apart- 
ments; and when we saw the great canopied beds 
we remembered wondering in childhood days 
whether kings wore their crowns at night. We 
knew they never took them off in the daytime! 
It was all very fine, but, we had to confess, not 
very "homey." 

The Chapel of St. George, with its tomb of 
Henry VIII., gives the Catholic tourist food for 
thought. Two guides, or guards, accompanied 
the party; one unlocked the door through which 
we entered a room, the other locked it after us. 
This "got on our nerves," and we did not feel 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

really comfortable till we got down to the stables. 
Here an Irish lad showed us the horses, carriages, 
harnesses, etc. Each horse had his own stall, 
with his name inscribed on a small plate marking 
it; and there were no docked tails among the 
horses of the royal stables. 

From Windsor we drove to Stoke-Pogis, passing 
on our way Eton College, where the Walpoles, 
Lord Bolingbroke, Fox, Hallam, and the Duke 
of Wellington were trained. The drive was delight- 
ful; the road wound through garden spots, by 
beautiful estates, past stretches of green, along 
cricket fields, bosky dells, and dense woods. The 
Manor of Stoke-Pogis was once held by William 
Penn; and near the entrance to the park, Mary, 
to the edification of the driver who drew up the 
horses, stood up in the carriage and recited some 
lines from Gray's "Ode to Eton College." But 
her satisfaction suffered a slight shock when he 
started on again, with the words, "They all says 
that poem here, ma'am!" Near the park entrance 
is the Gray monument; but the poet is buried 
some distance from it, in the churchyard where 
he wrote the Elegy. He lies in the same tomb 
as his mother and aunt, and a small tablet on the 
church wall opposite the grave records the place 
of the burial. The little vine-covered chapel, the 
moss-veiled headstones, the paths that the feet 
of centuries have worn, — all recall Gray's lines. 
We sat under the very tree where, it is supposed, 
he put his thoughts into solemn measure for us. 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

We looked at the scene he beheld when he wrote: 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mould' ring heap, 

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

And, as he thought of them and of their simple 
life, he said what we felt as we rested in the still- 
ness there: 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes never learned to stray; 

Along the cool, sequestered vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 

A little old woman was custodian of the church 
and grounds, and she was one of the first we met 
in England who refused to thaw out until her 
palm was crossed with silver; but her tale of 
ungrateful tourists was fully worth a shilling. 
(That reminds me, a shilling is our "quarter," 
hence the English sixpence is twelve and a half 
cents of our money; so to know the cost of any- 
thing below pounds, Mary says one must multiply 
by two.) Just beyond the churchyard gate, where 
our carriage was waiting, we bought views of 
Stoke-Pogis and the poet's grave from an English 
girl who lived in a cottage such as one reads about. 
Her name might have been Rosalind, but more 
likely it was Hannah. 

Tired and worn, we reached London at sunset; 
and, though it was out of our way, we drove to 
St. Ethelreda's Church for Benediction. There in 
the dusk we rested soul and body; England to us 

128 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

was within the four walls of the chapel, and England 
was Catholic. 

One whole morning we devoted to the places 
made famous by Dickens. There were Lincoln's 
Inn Fields, with its memories of Aunt Betsey 
Trotwood and of "Bleak House"; Warwick's Inn, 
a favorite haunt of Dickens; the Temple Gardens, 
recalling Ruth Pinch in ''Martin Chuzzlewit"; the 
Old Curiosity Shop, its two little windows for all 
the world like two startled eyes looking out of 
the past on the London pageant of to-day; and 
many other places bringing up thoughts of the 
author of "Pickwick Papers." 

Regent Street, with its fine shops, was not 
neglected in our itinerary; nor was the Bank of 
England, which looks as solid as its reputation. 
It is a gloomy structure, unbroken by windows, — 
skylights taking their place. Nothing less than a 
company of soldiers garrison it at night. A ride on 
the Thames gave a good view of St. Paul's and 
the various bridges, as well as of the district once 
called Bankside, where Shakespeare's plays were 
produced at the Globe Theatre, then outside the 
city limits. It is now in one of the business sections. 

To get closer to Shakespeare, we went to Strat- 
ford-on-Avon, a little over a hundred miles from 
London, arranging at the Booking Office (the ticket 
office) to stop at Oxford on our return. The country 
is beautiful, and we were at Stratford before we 
realized it. The town is old-fashioned and very 
"Englishy." The house in which the poet was 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

born was familiar to us through descriptions and 
prints, as were also the school and Ann Hathaway's 
thatched cottage. 

On our way to Shottery, we were glad to accept 
an invitation to take tea at a little rose-twined 
house, said invitation being set forth on a sign 
offering quick service. We sat in an old-fashioned 
garden under a great tree, where tea and bread 
and jam were served at a moderate price. At the 
Hathaway home we saw heather for the first time, 
and would not have known what it was but for 
Aunt Margaret. Little girls were selling it in small 
bunches, and of course we made a purchase. The 
Shakespeare relics and the places made famous 
by Shakespeare were interesting, but the river and 
the church meant most to us. We registered in 
the visitor's book at the church door, and noticed 
that Americans form the majority of Shakespeare's 
lovers. We saw here the parish record of the poet's 
baptism and of his burial, the American window, 
and the long line of tombs of Shakespeare and his 
family. We stood there for a long time and gazed 
at the words which meant so much more to us now 
than when we had read them in books: 

Good frend, for Jesus' sake forbeare 
to digg the dust encloased heare; 
Bleste be ye man yt spares thes stones, 
and curst be he yt moves my bones. 

There is a solemn dignity about the tomb that 
awes one; and, though one would like to have 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

said a Requiescat, Mary's softly spoken words from 
Cymbeline seemed most appropriate: 

Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 

Nor the furious winter's rages; 
Thou thy worldly task hast done, 

Home art gone and ta'en thy wages: 
Golden lads and girls all must, 
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

Fear no more the frown o' the great: 
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; 

Care no more to clothe and eat: 
To thee the reed is as the oak. 

The sceptre, learning, physic, must 

All follow this and come to dust. 

Fear no more the lightning flash, 
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 

Fear not slander, censure rash: 
Thou hast finished joy and moan. 

All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign to thee and come to dust. 

No exorciser harm thee! 
Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 
Nothing ill come near thee! 
Quiet consummation have; 
And renowned be thy grave! 

Close by the churchyard flows the gentle Avon, 
and on its green banks we sat listening to the 
waters that said so much to Shakespeare. The 
sedges broke the river into music; boats glided by, 
the oars dipping with a soft stroke; boat shadows 
and cloud shadows merged in silver distance, just 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

as in the olden days when Shakespeare as a boy- 
dreamed the summer hours away. 

It was time to go; and, as we turned for a 
parting look, Mary threw a flowering spray into 
the Avon and repeated: "There's rosemary for 
remembrance." 



132 




XIV. 

XFORD is like an old-fashioned garden, 
and every moment we spent there was a 
delight. We secured rooms at the Mitre, 
a real English inn, and at once set forth 
on a tour of the town and colleges. A quiet young 
man acted as guide; and he evidently knew every 
stick and stone, every story and legend in and 
about Oxford. He pointed out the tower of the 
castle where once resided Ofifa, the Saxon, and 
Harold Harefoot, and where the Empress Maud 
was besieged by King Stephen; and then told us 
of quarrels between students and townspeople 
which are part of the history of the place. One, 
recorded in 1354, resulted in the death of forty 
students and sixty citizens. Of course "town and 
gown" live on more civilized terms now. 

The University is usually traced back to the 
time of Alfred the Great; but, whenever it was 
established, it was modelled, in the way of constitu- 
tions and regulations, on the University of Paris. 
The term "Oxford University" covers twenty- 
one colleges and a number of halls. Each college 
has its own courses of study, rules and regulations, 
its own dormitories, dining halls, kitchens, etc.; 
but all are subordinate to the general statutes of 
the University. Candidates for the various degrees 
have to pass the same examinations, though each 
college has its own lectures, and the degrees are 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

conferred by the University as a whole. Mr. Bryce 
uses Oxford colleges and the University to explain 
the Government of the United States, so we might 
use the Government to explain Oxford. The 
States are the colleges; the Federal Government, 
the University. The names of the colleges, with 
probable date of foundation, are University, 1253; 
Balliol, 1268; Merton, 1274; Exeter, 13 14; Oriel, 
1326; Queen's, 1340; New, 1379; Lincoln, 1427; 
All Souls', 1437; Magdalen, 1458; Brasenose, 1509; 
Corpus Christi, 15 16; Christ Church, 1546; Trinity, 
1554; St. John's, 1555; Jesus, 1571; Wadham, 
161 2; Pembroke, 1624; Worcester, 1714; Keble, 
1870; and Hertford, 1874. 

The town, one might say, is made up of colleges, 
all graceful structures, most of them of grey stone, 
none very high, except in the way of towers and 
spires, but all roomy and solid-looking. Stone 
arched gateways lead to courts where the sward 
is like emerald velvet, and where fountain sprays 
break into mimic rainbows in the sun. East of 
the town flows the Cherwell, meeting the Isis 
below Christ Church Meadow. It is on the Isis, 
a branch of the Thames, that the Oxford boat races 
are held; and from the new walk beyond Folly 
Bridge we saw the barges of the college boat clubs 
moored alongside the Meadow bank. Everywhere 
there are trees and vines; and as we admired the 
wonderful lawns, Aunt Margaret told us that Mr. 
Goldwin Smith once asked a gardener the secret 
of the smooth, velvety stretches of grass, to which 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

the reply was: "It is quite easy, sir. One has 
only to keep it cut close and roll it regularly for 
three or four centuries." The hedges, too, show 
the training of ages. 

The first college we visited was St. Mary Mag- 
dalen's (pronounced Maudlen), and the tower and 
gateway alone would make a visit to Oxford worth 
while. Passing the porter's lodge within the arch- 
way, one is enraptured with the beauty of it all. 
The stone buildings, low and irregular, covered 
with vines and surrounded by trees, are on the 
banks of the Cherwell. Within the grounds are 
Addison's Walk and a deer park. In one of the 
quadrangles is an outdoor canopied pulpit, where 
it used to be customary to have an annual sermon 
on St. John the Baptist's Day. According to an 
old custom that still prevails, the choir on May- 
day repairs to the top of the Magdalen tower at 
five o'clock in the morning, and there sings a Latin 
hymn in honor of the Trinity. The Oxford bells 
then ring out, and the " young folk go a-Maying." 
The dining hall of Magdalen is a great oak-panelled 
room, furnished with massive oak tables and 
benches, and adorned with portraits of Magdalen 
students who became famous. Among the best 
known are Wolsey, Addison, Collins, Charles Reade, 
and Gibson. 

Queen's College is named in honor of Philippa, 
Queen of Edward III. In the chapel we noticed 
a lector's stand,— a brass eagle, dated 1662, and 
inscribed in Latin: "The Bird of Queen's is the 

135 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Queen of Birds." The dining hall of this college, 
designed by Sir Christopher Wren, has many 
traditions associated with it. Here the boar's 
head is brought in on Christmas Day, and the old 
carols are still sung. On New Year's Day the 
bursar presents each student or guest with a needle 
and thread, saying, "Take this and be thrifty"; 
the word aiguille (needle) referring to the founder, 
Robert Egglesfield. Henry V. and Edward the 
Black Prince were registered as students at Queen's. 

We were curious to know how Brasenose College 
came by its name, and learned that a brewhouse 
(brasen-hus) formerly occupied the site, the name 
having been perpetuated by a knocker fixed in a 
nose of brass on the door of the old hall. This 
knocker is to be seen in the dining hall of Brasenose, 
affixed to the wainscoting. Dean Milman, Bishop 
Heber, and Walter Pater are among the noteworthy 
students of this College. 

As we entered under the tessellated gateway 
tower of Oriel, we had many thoughts; for this 
was long the home of Cardinal Newman. A statue 
of Our Lady is above the hall porch; and as we 
passed through the quadrangle, library and chapel, 
we wondered what part that gentle Queen played in 
the great Cardinal's conversion. We saw Newman's 
rooms, one of which opened on a gallery of the 
chapel. The honor roll of Oriel bears the names 
of Walter Raleigh, Pusey, Keble, Thomas Arnold, 
and Cecil Rhodes. Trinity College, too, was dear 
to Newman, and we looked in the courtyard there 

136 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

for the snapdragons that gladdened his freshman 
year. 

Christ Church is another interesting group of 
buildings. The gateway is under "Tom Tower," 
containing the bell known as "Old Tom," formerly 
of Osney Abbey. It gives the signal for the closing 
of the college gates. The chapel was originally 
dedicated to St. Frideswide, and her life is shown 
in the stained-glass windows designed by Burne- 
Jones. The church was given by Henry VIII. to 
Cardinal Wolsey, who planned a college to be 
named after himself; but the property reverted to 
the King, and it was finally transferred to his 
college at Oxford. The dining hall is part of the 
structure raised by Wolsey. The roof is of Irish 
oak, and the staircase is a marvel of beauty. Every- 
thing is so mellowed with age in this and the other 
buildings that the notices posted on the bulletin 
boards seem as if they must have been written 
in the days of More, Colet, Fisher, and Erasmus, 
or even by Duns Scotus or Roger Bacon. 

In Keble College we saw Holman Hunt's famous 
painting, "The Light of the World"; and in the 
chapel of Exeter, the "Great Tapestry," the "Ado- 
ration of the Magi," designed by Burne-Jones and 
executed by William Morris, both members of this 
foundation. In Exeter garden, our attention was 
called to a tree on which Dr. Kennicott once upon 
a time fixed a notice: "Dr. Kennicott's Fig Tree." 
An irreverent student changed the label to: "A 
Fig for Dr. Kennicott." We had a glimpse, too, of 

137 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Balliol, where Wycliffe, Jowett, Adam Smith, 
Southey, Cardinal Manning, and Dean Stanley 
matriculated. 

The University Church is that of St. Mary the 
Virgin, the entrance to which is the Virgin Porch, 
so called from the statue of Our Lady over the 
entablature, erected in 1637 by the chaplain of 
Archbishop Laud. At one time the Divine Child 
held out a crucifix, but the Puritans had this 
removed. The arms of the University — an open 
book bearing the motto Dominus illuminatio mea — 
are over the statue. In this church is the grave of 
Amy Robsart. Mary tried to bribe the custodian 
to sell or give her one of the hymn-books in evidence, 
but she was above graft. The books were stamped 
with the letters S. M. V., which, all things considered, 
was worth noting. 

We did not see all the colleges one after another. 
In between, we rested in the Lime Walk, visited 
the Bodleian Library, which seemed to us like an 
enlarged copy of the first volume of Garnett and 
Gosse's "English Literature"; went to the shops 
for souvenirs; drove up Woodstock Road to the 
little church of the Benedictines; saw Pope's Hall 
for Jesuit students, Hunter-Blair's Hall for Bene- 
dictine students; Lady Margaret's, Somerville, St. 
Hugh's, and St. Hilda's, where women may register 
as hearers of the Oxford lectures, but without hope 
of obtaining recognition; and, lastly, we spent a 
night at the Mitre Hotel. The house and furnish- 
ings of this inn must date back a long time. The 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

beds had figured chintz valances around them, 
and the "tidies" were tempting as souvenirs. 

We started our second day in Oxford with some- 
thing like an adventure. Aunt Margaret wanted 
to get some English money, so we stopped at the 
bank to make the exchange. There one of the 
party — not Aunt Margaret nor Catherine nor 
Mary — discovered that she was minus her purse. 
We hurried back to the Mitre to inquire if a pocket- 
book had been found; and there we learned that 
a maid, finding it under the pillow of one of the 
beds, had taken it to the clerk's desk. 

No doubt all Catholic visitors to Oxford wonder 
if it will ever be Catholic again. Somehow, it 
seems only fitting that it should. The names of 
the colleges, the chapels, statues of Our Lady and 
the saints, the carved ornaments of columns and 
gateways, the stories of the foundations, — all are 
Catholic. Out of Oxford came that great movement 
toward a return to Rome, and out of Oxford came 
Newman. 

There was a delay on our return trip to London; 
and, while we waited on a siding, we compared 
notes. Mary told of an experience she had kept 
from us for three days. It seems she had a pair 
of gloves she wanted to get rid of, so when we were 
walking from the station at Windsor to the Castle, 
she quietly dropped them beside her. No one was 
in sight; yet, before she had gone twenty steps, 
an old man stood in the path, begged her pardon, 
and handed her the gloves. Of course there was 

139 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

nothing to do but give him a tip, and a shilling 
was the smallest coin she had. That was not all. 
When we started from Stratford, she left the 
offending gloves in the cab; and, lo! the driver ran 
up to us as we boarded the train and presented 
them to the owner. Result, another shilling spent 
as a reward for honesty! 

We all had something to say about "tips"; 
for, from the day we boarded the Helvetia, we had 
found it necessary to have change ready on all 
occasions. The dear little stewardess told us sig- 
nificantly, before we left the boat at Naples, how 
generous one passenger had been and how stingy 
another. The waiter at our table in Rome withheld 
ice, except in diminutive bits, from those who forgot 
to tip him. Cab-drivers in Italy all look for some- 
thing in excess of the fare. In Venice, you tip the 
gondolier and the old man who steadies your 
boat as you embark or land. To insure, not prompt- 
ness, but any service at all, in most hotels, there 
must be an offering of some kind. Many Americans 
give too large a tip, but as many give too small 
a gratuity. At breakfast one day in London we 
overheard two ladies, who were to leave the hotel 
that morning, talking over the advisability of 
tipping the waiter. He had served them for at 
least four days, so when they were ready to go we 
could hardly help feeling an interest in the case. 
In expectant fashion he hovered around, and, as 
they passed out, each handed him, with a grand 
air, a bright silver sixpence! And that is the kind 

140 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of people who talk about the extortionate tips 
expected of travellers. 

We finally got under way again, and at the 
next station four wicker baskets were handed in 
by the guard. On some of the roads this arrange- 
ment is nicely carried out. An official takes orders 
for lunch — cold or hot dishes may be ordered, — 
and at the proper time the basket, with plate, 
knife, fork, etc., appears. When the lunch is dis- 
posed of, one need not think of the basket, etc. : 
at a way-station a guard removes it. There are 
no conductors on trains, as in this country; tickets 
are collected when one leaves the train. 

When we reached London, a packet of mail was 
waiting for us, and we spent the evening writing 
our last letters from abroad. Mary surprised us 
all by her unusual ardor in the epistolary line, 
which she declared was due to the pretty letter- 
head, "Hotel St. Ermin," in dignified embossed 
style. Then came the packing, which meant the 
rearrangement of our stock of souvenirs; after 
which Catherine and Mary saw to it that the porter 
put his best labels on trunks, suit-cases, and satchels, 
while Mary named those who, she hoped, would 
see the baggage when we reached home. " I'd 
give my finest lion of Lucerne to have Anne Keyes 
see those labels!" she exclaimed. "She nearly 
preserved in alcohol the custom-house label on her 
suit-case after her trip to Canada last year." 

Just then came the man for the heavy baggage, 
which meant that we should have an early start 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

the next day; so Aunt Margaret showed us the 
wisdom of retiring. In the morning we assisted at 
Mass at the cathedral, had breakfast, and were at 
the station by 8:30, bound for Holyhead, where 
we were to take boat for Dublin. 



142 



W: 



XV. 



E left London about nine o'clock, and 
our journey northwest to Holyhead was 
through a beautiful country. It was 
like a great park, with stretches of 
green meadow, dense groves, silver lakes, pictu- 
resque cottages, stately mansions, and grey, ivy- 
mantled ruins. When we reached Wales we found 
entertainment in our guide-book, which would have 
been more satisfactory had it been furnished with 
a key to the pronunciation of such names as 
" Llanerchymedd " and "Braich y pwll." By two 
in the afternoon we had crossed the Menai Strait, 
traversed the island of Anglesea, and come to the 
end of our railroad journey at Holyhead, where the 
Leinster was waiting to take us sixty-four miles 
westward to Kingston, on Dublin Bay. 

For nearly three hours our boat moved with the 
sun toward Ireland; and as we reached the harbor, 
our hearts away ahead of the boat, the land and 
water were radiant in the glory of the sunset. As 
we steamed in, it was evident that festivities of 
some sort were in order. We did not suppose that 
flying flags and martial music were in our honor, 
and we soon understood; for there in the Bay was 
the English fleet. There was something heavy 
and typically English-looking about those great 
ships of war, manned largely by Irish sailors; and 
as they lay at anchor there, one could easily imagine 

143 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

a certain condescension about them, as boats of 
every description, from regular liners to small 
fishing smacks, all in full regalia of flags, pennants 
and streamers, excitedly gave signs, each in its 
own way, of hospitable intent. The piers and 
water-front, as far as eye could see, were thronged 
with people attracted by the fleet; and it was in 
this unexpected setting that we got our first im- 
pression of Ireland. 

A barometer does not register atmospheric 
changes more surely than does Celtic blood in the 
veins of a traveller make itself felt when one comes 
upon Irish soil. There may not be much of the 
Celtic blood, but it is as quicksilver in responsive- 
ness to the lap of the wave on the shore, the caress 
of the air on eyelids that press back tears of emotion. 
As we waited to disembark, over and over again, 
with a painful iteration, the words kept saying 
themselves in my mind : " We increase the sea 
with our tears, and the wandering winds with our 
sighs." Under the spell of this first almost over- 
powering feeling, we found places in the waiting 
train, and in a short half hour were installed at the 
Gresham on Sackville Street. All of us looked back 
with pride to Irish ancestors; so it was with the 
eager expectancy of a sort of home-coming that we 
planned the hours of our visit, which was to be a 
short one. The night before we had rested near 
the Thames; through our first dreams in Ireland 
flowed the music of the Liffey. 

Dubhlinn, or "The Dark Pool," so our guide- 
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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

book told us, was known in the second century as 
Eblana ; and in the fifth century St. Patrick founded 
a church in this then noted town. It was at one 
time the principal stronghold of the Danes, and later 
it became the strongest centre of English invaders. 
To-day it is a beautiful and prosperous city of 
nearly four hundred thousand inhabitants. 

Our sight-seeing began with a view of Sackville 
Street, as we walked down toward O'Connell 
Bridge; it is a wide thoroughfare, and boasts 
the O'Connell monument, Nelson's pillar, and a 
marble statue of Father Mathew, "the Apostle 
of Temperance." A short walk brought us to 
College Green, from which we inspected the ex- 
terior of the Bank of Ireland, once upon a time 
the Irish House of Parliament. Grouped near 
are several other banks, making the locality the 
Wall Street of Dublin. Turning into the court- 
yard of Trinity College, Mary declared she began 
to have intellectual shivers; for the names of 
Swift, Goldsmith, Moore, Grattan, Edmund Burke, 
and others came to mind. But Catherine said 
every schoolgirl has those feelings in September, 
with the opening days of the school year. Be 
that as it may, we visited the college buildings 
with interest, especially the library, which Mary 
admired because, as she put it, it was "so lovely 
and disorderly." The Book of Kells and a Celtic 
Harp, said by some to have belonged to Brian 
Boru, alone were worth a visit to the College. 
A soft rain obliged us to take a carriage instead 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of a jaunting car on our sight-seeing trips in and 
about Dublin; though more than one driver urged 
us to try a "low back car," assuring us that the 
rain wouldn't wet us. 

It gives one something of a shock to find St. 
Patrick's Cathedral not a Catholic church, even 
though one knows the fact beforehand; and one 
has the same feeling at St. Anne's, in Cork, in the 
belfry of which are the famous bells of Shandon. 
St. Patrick's Cathedral dates back to 448 A. D., 
though the present building was erected in 1190. 
It is a beautiful church. Of course the verger 
pointed out the slabs in memory of Dean Swift 
and Stella. In a street near by we witnessed a 
novel scene. A sort of fair was in progress; there 
were all kinds of second-hand articles being sold 
or exchanged. The driver of our carriage told us 
that this was the last time the fair would be held 
in the street, as the town had furnished a build- 
ing in which the sales were to be conducted, thus 
doing away with a time-honored custom. To 
describe the scene would be impossible. 

St. Mary's Pro-Cathedral, the church of the 
Carmelites, and St. Saviour's, in charge of the 
Dominicans, were like home to us; and it was edi- 
fying to see the devotion of the worshippers to 
be found before the altar at all hours of the day, 
while at every Mass we attended the church was 
thronged. 

We had a delightful ride in the misty rain through 
Phoenix Park, past acres of velvety lawn and shady 

146 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

grove, where herds of deer browsed; past the 
zoological gardens, the Viceregal Lodge, the Well- 
ington Testimonial, the Phcenix Column, and the 
review ground of the Dublin garrison 

Glasnevin Cemetery was our objective point 
for a second day's sight-seeing; and there we 
turned our steps at once to the O'Connell Circle 
a plot hallowed by the remains of many patriots 
well known in Irish history. Aunt Margaret 
told us much of interest as we threaded our way 
among the graves of Cardina] MacCabe> ^.^ 

OConnell, John Philpot Curran, and Charles 
Stewart Parnell. As we listened to the story 
of the faithful servant of Robert Emmet and of 
more than one patriot-martyr resting beneath 
the greensward, a shower of plaintive bird notes 
from a dense copse close by fell upon the air, 
and Mary voiced our common thought in the 
words of the poet: 

How sweet sing the birds over mountain and vale 
I,ike soft-sounding chords that lament for the Gael! 
Another delightful drive was out to a district 
known as Donnybrook, thence to the Carmelite 
Convent outside Dublin, and beyond that to Rath- 
farnham, the Mother House of the Loretto Nuns 
The beautiful country road was shut in by hi<-h 
stone walls over which one got tempting views 
of great old trees, and hints of stately mansions. 
The picturesque charm of Ireland wove its spell 
over us as we drove along under the shadows 
oi trees that seemed ready to whisper secrets 

147 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of the ages long gone. The poetry of the still 
beauty moved us, and snatches of song seemed 
the speech most fitting. We always counted 
on Mary for the right line of poetty, and along 
the road to Rathfarnham we heard again verses 
that had a new meaning for us. There was an 
Irish lilt in her voice as she quoted Mangan's 
words : 

Her woods are tall and straight, grove rising over grove; 
Trees flourish in her glens below and on her heights above; 
Ah, in heart and soul I shall ever, ever love 
The fair hills of Eire, O! 

If not a stone's-throw, at least a short ride 
from Dublin brought us to one of those historic 
monuments of Erin's past, a Round Tower; and 
here we recalled MacCarthy's stirring lines: 

The pillar towers of Ireland, how wondrously they stand 
By the lakes and rushing rivers, through the valleys of 

our land! 
In mystic file, through the isle, they lift their heads 

sublime, — 
These grey, old pillar temples, these conquerors of time! 

How many different rites have these grey old temples 

known! 
To the mind, what dreams are written in these chronicles 

of stone! 
What terror and what error, what gleams of love and 

truth, 
Have flashed from these walls since the world was in its 

youth! 

Our visits to the shops made us regret we hadn't 
landed first in Ireland instead of Italy; for by 

148 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

this time both our purses and our custom-house 
bills forbade much in the line of purchases. How- 
ever, linens, laces and Belleek ware tempted us 
sorely, and we found that the quickest and most 
comfortable way to get rid of the temptation 
was to yield to it. 

Arthur Guinness, Son & Co. is a prominent 
sign in Dublin, and visitors find much to learn 
in the great brewery which this firm represents. 
It seems the whole process of brewing stout is open 
to the public at certain hours. We did not avail 
ourselves of the opportunity thus offered, — an 
opportunity pressed on us by our cab-driver; 
but his good humor was restored by our enjoyment 
of the old story which he related as an incident of 
the week before. It was of the tourist, who, tak- 
ing with a friend a draught of the Guinness' product, 
remarked to the waiter: "Sure, this is eating 
and drinking; isn't it, Pat?" To which he re- 
plied: "It is, sir; and a night's lodging besides, 
if you take enough of it." 

We were loath to leave Dublin, but our schedule 
was not to be changed, so we took train for Killar- 
ney; and if we weren't already in love with Ireland 
when we started, we certainly were before we 
had been two hours on our southwest course through 
beautiful Erin. On the bluest of blue skies above 
us flocks of fleecy clouds were herded by soft winds; 
on the greenest of green meadows below it, gentle- 
eyed cows were browsing; here and there were 
" peat-beds, once the forest primeval " ; beside the 

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SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

even cuts were stacks of peat, and the black bogs 
were edged with delicate white blossoms. Over 
all was a mystic glamour, an atmosphere giving 
an opal effect ; and we thought with Aunt Margaret 
that Corot would have revelled in the scenery of 
Ireland. 

About sunset we stopped at Mallow, where Mary 
and Catherine decided to "take a turn" on the 
platform; they barely missed being left behind, 
in their eagerness to make the acquaintance of 
a little old woman who was selling laces just out- 
side the station gate. Mary declared that she was 
the very one who, once upon a time, said to a 
generous purchaser : " May you ride in a fine 
carriage, and may the mud of your wheels splash 
the face of your enemies, — sure you haven't any!" 

If the country was lovely in the sunlight, it was 
lovelier in the dusk: and as we looked out on the 
Low-lying pastures, like a wan lagoon 
In a dim land of ghosts, 

we almost expected the "little folk" to appear; 
and just as we felt sure they were stirring in the 
shadows, we found the train slackening, and the 
guard called out: "Killarney." 



150 



XVI. 

^ONC before most of our fellow-travellers at 
the hotel dreamed of rising, we started out; 
and, as we followed the lovely lane that 
led to the town, the sunshiny morning 
seemed made for us. Killarney — lakes and town — 
nestles in a valley of rare beauty. The Mac- 
Gillicuddy Reeks, the Tomies, and the Purple 
Mountains encircle it; and it is fascinating to 
watch the sunlight touch to color the crags and 
fissures. Truly 

In purple they gleam like our High Kings of yore. 
In this setting of glory, the little town impresses 
one as part of a picture. The whitewashed cottages, 
thatched roofs, and tiny gardens edged with cobble- 
stones, that cluster in the lanes and away from the 
streets of the town, are most attractive; and the 
faces we saw at windows and doorways were of 
the real Irish winsome type. 

There is no mistaking a Catholic church on a 
weekday; one has only to go with the crowd. 
This we did; though it was perhaps a small crowd 
that led up a hill and stairway to the Franciscan 
church, where faith and piety were evident, though 
Mary spoke of it as "audible." After Mass we 
walked along the main street, looking in at some 
of the shops, and adding to our stock of souvenirs. 
We had sent our cards, with a letter of intro- 
duction, to one of the reverend Fathers at the 

151 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

monastery ; and on our return to the hotel we found 
him waiting to show us what is meant by an Irish 
welcome and Irish hospitality. Father Francis 
took us to the cathedral, designed by Pugin; then 
to the convent school, conducted by the Presenta- 
tion Nuns, where we spent a most enjoyable hour. 
It was there we first saw real Irish dancing. The 
children were grace itself; and there was a sweet, 
modest charm about the light-footed little Irish 
beauties that quite won our hearts. There, too, 
we heard songs in Gaelic, composed by the Sisters, — 
songs that were like Killarney itself, now aglow 
with sunshine, then grey with the mist of tears. 

We were next conducted to the demesne of Lord 
and Lady Kenmare. We were in a sort of "Alice- 
in-Wonderland " state of mind when we saw the 
beauty of the place. The residence is of red sand- 
stone, and has the appearance of an English manor 
house. It is on an eminence overlooking the fairest 
valley in the world. The luxuriant hills frame the 
scene, which is beyond words. The Lower Lake, 
Lough Leane, with its green borders and emerald 
islands, stretches just below the castle, while the 
immediate grounds are laid out after the manner 
of an Italian garden. The estate is large, and the 
winding roadways take one through varied scenes. 

We had the good fortune to meet Lady Ken- 
mare — a lady of charm and distinction, — who 
showed us the private chapel and her own study. 
The Stations of the Cross we noticed especially. 
They are carved of many kinds of wood, each in 

152 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

its natural color, and the effect is wonderfully 
artistic. Lord Kenmare we caught only a glimpse 
of. He was just starting out on a hunting trip,, 
and he looked so fine in his topboots, riding coat, 
etc., that we almost forgot our manners and stared 
in admiration; while it seemed quite natural when 
Mary asked him if the hunting was good at Grau- 
stark! Father Francis began to tell us how much 
Lord and Lady Kenmare were doing for the people 
in and about Killarney; but Lady Kenmare 
deftly changed the subject by telling us, with 
touching mother love and pride, that her little son 
had served Mass for the first time that morning, 
his older brother acting as coach. It was interest- 
ing to know, too, that Father Robert Hugh Benson 
had said the Mass. We were sorry to have missed 
seeing him; but just before our arrival he had 
gone out on a fishing trip. Altogether, our visit 
was delightful and will not soon be forgotten. 

A whole day was devoted to the Lakes. We 
drove for miles and miles through a veritable 
Forest of Arden. Trees, vines, mosses, myrtle, 
holly and arbutus everywhere; the hills, under 
the spell of sun and clouds, never the same for 
five minutes; grey ruins, rude stone bridges, 
singing rills, tiny waterfalls; a sense of antiquity 
over everything, yet the freshness of youth in the 
soft verdure. All one could think was, God must 
love Ireland! 

Our first stop was at Muckross Abbey, once the 
home of Franciscan friars. The guide-book thus 

153 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

summarized the history of the Abbey: "Founded, 
1340. Suppressed, 1542. Renovated, 1602. Re- 
stored, 1626. Destroyed, 1652." The ruins are 
really majestic. On the ground-floor one traces 
the following divisions and their probable uses: 
chapel, choir, Lady Chapel, vestry, reception 
room, cloister-court, and storeroom. The floor 
above was given over to refectory, kitchen, dor- 
mitory, lavatory, — all built around the cloister- 
court. The stone arches, mouldings and columns 
are well preserved, and are beautiful indeed. The 
choir contains the oldest tombs of the Abbey. 
The MacFinans and O'Sullivans, O'Donoghues and 
MacCarthys, buried there, surely have a royal 
resting-place. In the centre of the cloister-court 
is a venerable yew tree, said to be nearly six hundred 
years old. The spreading branches overshadow 
the whole monastery. It is held by the people of 
the locality that injury will befall any one who 
breaks off even a twig of the tree. Of course we 
did not believe in any such superstition, but we 
were not anxious to take any liberties with the 
yew tree of Muckross Abbey. 

As we approached the ruins that morning, we 
heard sounds that did not seem in keeping with 
the surroundings; and, on leaving the avenue 
and turning toward the entrance to the chapel, 
we came upon a scene which explained the strange 
noise. There, seated on the ancient tombs beside 
the Abbey, was a party of American tourists, 
singing "From Greenland's Icy Mountains." We 

154 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

did not notice in words the incongruity of it all; 
if friars in their graves did not resent it, why should 
we? We paid a second visit to Muckross Abbey, 
but that comes later in the story. A further drive 
brought us to where we were to take the boats 
for " Dinis Cottage." It was in this last stretch of 
road that our driver regaled us with quaint legends 
and stories. Pointing to a tiny thread of water 
trickling down a gully, he told us that in the season 
the thread became a dashing cascade. Once upon 
a time, he continued, a man who had heard of the 
beautiful cascade travelled many miles to see it. 
He had tramped for hours where he had been told 
he would find it, and finally, worn out, he sat down 
to rest. A cart passed along the road below him, 
and he called out, inquiring of the driver the loca- 
tion of the cascade. The driver stopped for a 
moment, looked up, then started on, as he replied: 
"Sure, sir, you're sitting on it." That evening at 
the hotel we learned that every driver tells that 
same story to every party he takes past the 
cascade. 

At the marge of the Upper Lake, we found boats 
waiting for the party, and soon we were on the 
waters that seemed of liquid emeralds. On the 
islands and the green shores there was a dense 
growth of hazel, arbutus, mountain ash, and holly. 
The dark, glossy leaves of the holly shone out 
against the paler greens; and a new depth of 
pathos rang through the exile's thought voiced 
in the lines: 

155 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Wisha, Christmas time at Kerry, and me not there to see 
The scarlet berries burnin' on the shinin' holly tree! 

With enchantment on every side, as well as above 
and beneath us, we were rowed on down the Long 
Range, past the Eagle's Nest, a tall cliff with a 
remarkable disposition to have the last word. It 
must have been here that Tennyson heard the 
echoes "Dying, dying, dying." Passing on under 
the old Weir Bridge, an unforgettable spot, we 
came to "The Meeting of the Waters" and to 
"Dinis Cottage," where we stopped for refresh- 
ments. We sat on the green border of the Middle 
Lake and had a picnic lunch, after which we wan- 
dered about, everywhere finding new charms. 
It was near " Dinis Cottage" that Mary and 
Catherine discovered fuchsia plants of such lux- 
uriance as to cover the whole side and roof of 
cottages. Soon we took to the boats again, and 
continued our way through fairy scenes, passing 
between Brickeen and Dinis Islands into Lough 
Leane, the largest of the three Lakes. Legend has 
it that a rich and prosperous city once rose where 
the waters of Lough Leane now are. The guide- 
book puts it thus: 

"This city contained a fountain, of which it 
was predicted that, should its mouth be left un- 
covered even for a single night, its waters would 
rise and deluge the land. Inspired with more 
than usual recklessness, the then prince caused 
the cover of the well to be removed. During 
the night the spring flowed over, and what had 

156 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

been a teeming city and smiling land became a 
beautiful Lake. Yet death came not upon the 
inhabitants or their prince. The city and palace 
still exist in all their ancient glory beneath the 
waters of the Lake, and glimpses of them have 
often been obtained (so they believe) by the boat- 
men who ply upon it; while O'Donoghue himself 
is permitted at certain periods to revisit the upper 
world. On every May morning, at sunrise, this 
chieftain emerges from the enchanted Lake, and, 
mounted on a beautiful white steed, comes riding 
over its waters, fairies hovering over him and 
strewing flowers in his path." 

All sorts of pretty stories, not a few of them 
touched with true Irish wit, were told us by the 
boatmen as their oars carried us smoothly over 
the waters to Innisfallen, that island of sad memory 
to lovers of Erin. We visited the ruined Abbey, 
and wondered not that Tom Moore called Innis- 
fallen "a fairy isle." In the glory of the sunny 
afternoon, we turned toward Ross Castle, our 
last stop along the Lake; and there we looked 
upon the ruins of the old town and keep that, 
in 1652, held out so bravely. The mossy stones 
and ivy-clad ruins teach a lesson of patriotism 
even to-day. At Ross Castle we found our carriages 
waiting; and soon we reached our starting-point, 
ready to confirm all the beautiful things said and 
sung of Killarney since first it was discovered by 
tourists. 

Mary had made up her mind that Muckross as 

157 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

well as Melrose, to be viewed aright, must be visited 
by the "pale moonlight"; so a small party was 
made up, and placed under the kind guardianship 
of Father Francis, who went to much trouble to 
arrange the visit. The road to the Abbey leads 
through different domains, and the various gate- 
keepers thereto had to be notified in advance. 
But all was finally arranged to our satisfaction, 
except the sky, — about the only thing around 
Killarney, Mary declared, that was not anxious 
to please Father Francis. Clouds persisted in 
hiding the stars, but we took our places on jaunting 
cars and rode out into the darkness. The air was 
misty and fragrant; the stillness enveloped us; 
the thud of the horses' feet along the road, the sub- 
dued voices of all as we drove under the low- 
hanging trees, were weird enough for even Mary's 
romantic nature. 

When we reached the Abbey, we were under a 
spell, and we kept close together as we moved about 
under the arches and around the cloister, where 
the mystic yew tree loomed black and awesome. 
There in the ruins, with glimpses of pale moonlight, 
or occasional gleams of starlight, we listened breath- 
lessly to stories of long ago. Our guide pointed 
out where, in 1590, a marriage took place at mid- 
night in the then practically ruined chapel. The 
fortunes of the great families of the MacCarthys 
were joined in a marriage, which for political reasons 
had to be kept from the knowledge of the English 
authorities; so the bridal party crossed the Take 

158 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

in the boats manned by "four lusty kernes" and 
guarded by "a dozen stalwart gallowglasses." 

As we turned to leave the old monastery, the 
moon shone out full upon the arches and tombs; 
the night wind stirred as if echoing the thought 
in our hearts — a Requiem for the brave dead resting 
there in the lonely ruins of Muckross Abbey. 



159 



XVII. 

fHINK of having only two days in which 
to see Cork and Blarney! Every moment 
there was a new impression. It was like 
taking views for a moving-picture perfor- 
mance and packing the films away for later develop- 
ment. Of course, in the mental process, there 
were under-exposures and over-exposures; some- 
times we did not focus properly, and more than 
once we tried to take two pictures on the same 
film. But the next time we go — what a wonderful 
trip that "next time" is going to be! 

As soon as we had arranged for rooms at the 
Imperial Hotel, in Cork, we inquired the way to 
Blarney. By train was, of course, the most direct; 
but to drive there would give glimpses of scenery 
considered worth while. So we drove, and every 
moment of the afternoon was a delight. The road 
wound through a beautiful country. The low hills 
were carpeted with velvety grass; and here and 
there we caught flashes of the River Lee, a silver 
setting for the fields of emerald. The little town 
of Blarney was to us like a picture from an old 
book. It was restful, yet it was here that we felt 
most sensibly the loneliness of Ireland. The very 
effort made to interest the people in the way of 
industries seemed to emphasize the fact that the 
young are eager to seek the favors of fortune 
elsewhere. 

1 60 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

Blarney Castle is, of course, the objective point 
of all tourists to this enchanting region. It is a 
grey stone ruin, with history and mystery written 
large on its ancient walls. We climbed to the 
top of the donjon tower, which is one hundred 
and twenty feet high, and there enjoyed seeing 
several venturesome tourists go through the gym- 
nastic performance of kissing the Blarney Stone. 
The grounds around the Castle are picturesque. 
There is a wild beauty about the vine-grown rocks 
and mossy trees; and a certain proud, sad reticence 
in glen and tangled copse that one notes sometimes 
in the daughters of Erin. As we drove back to 
Cork in the late afternoon, the glory of the sunset 
was over the land; and, as usual, Mary found the 
right word for the right place; for she quoted 
Father Prout's lines: 

And the sun sheds gold 
On this city old, 

And lingers sinking down, 
Where the throstle thrills 
Behind the hills 

Which circle Cork's own town. 

We met friends in this city on "the pleasant 
waters of the River Lee," who acted as guides to 
us, thus enabling us to see much more than we had 
planned for ourselves. St. Mary's Cathedral (poor 
St. Fin Barre, his cathedral is Protestant!), St. 
Vincent's Church, on the heights of Sunday's Well; 
the Father Mathew Memorial Church; the Mar- 
dyke, a pretty elm-shaded roadway; Queen's 

161 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

College, and the Convent of the Good Shepherd, 
were among the places of interest we visited. It 
goes without saying we heard the Bells of Shandon, 
eight in number, that hang in the tower of a church 
known in 1199 as that of St. Mary in the Mountain, 
later as St. Marie de Shandon, — probably from 
Shandunadh, signifying "old fort." St. Patrick's 
Church, St. Patrick's Hill, St. Patrick's Bridge, 
and St. Patrick's Quay, — these were partial com- 
pensation for calling Protestant churches after St. 
Ann and St. Fin Barre. There was an air of American 
activity in the shops, and in our note-books it is 
recorded that in Cork we saw the finest fruit that 
had met our eyes since we set out from home. 

We were scheduled to sail for New York on 
Sunday morning, so we left Cork for Queenstown 
Saturday evening. Up to 1849, the little harbor 
town, which might be called ''The Last Sigh of 
the Gael," was known simply as "The Cove"; its 
present name having been given to it by Queen 
Victoria, on the occasion of a visit there. It is 
built up against the hillside; and as we looked 
out over the waters, and thought of the thousands 
and thousands who had started bravely from 
Queenstown to make homes in foreign lands, we 
were reminded of Kthna Carberry's lament on "The 
Passing of the Gael": 
They are going, going, going from the valleys and the 

hills, 
They are leaving far behind them heathery moor and 

mountain rills, 

162 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

All the wealth of hawthorn hedges where the brown thrush 
sways and thrills. 

They are leaving pleasant places— shores with snowy 

sands outspread; 
Blue and lonely lakes a-stirring, when the wind stirs 

overhead; 
Tender living hearts that love them, and the graves of 

kindred dead. 

And when we thought of the thousands who re- 
mained in Ireland, carrying ever in their hearts 
the" memory of those gone from them, we under- 
stood why Irish eyes seem ever filled with longing. 
Is it not because so many have watched, through 
tears, ships that were bearing away loved ones, 
never to return? 

That last night in Ireland we had what Mary 
called a " Do-you-remember?" party. We com- 
pared notes, recalled many pleasant experiences, 
laughed over our many mistakes, and expressed 
in the same breath regret at having come to the 
end of our sight-seeing, and joy at the prospect 
of soon reaching home; usually prefacing each 
item with "Do you remember?" Catherine recalled 
Milan by asking: "Do you remember the electric 
light arrangement in our room?" If we turned on 
the light on the table, the light in the chandelier 
went out, and we had thought that a clever con- 
trivance. Mary asked: "Do you remember how 
strange it seemed in Italy to have the drivers turn 
to the left instead of to the right in passing other 
vehicles?" Annt Margaret kept the ball rolling by 

163 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

inquiring if we remembered the caretaker of Queen's 
College museum who pronounced u fac-simile" as 
if it rhymed with beguile"; to which Catherine 
added, "And the London shopkeeper, whom we 
could hardly understand, and who told us he knew 
we were Americans because of our 'haccent.'" I 
carried them all back to Rome by asking if they 
remembered my experience with a Roman cabman. 
There was no doubt they still enjoyed the memory 
of my encounter. 

One evening, when we dismissed our cab at 
the hotel, I told the driver to call in the morning 
at seven and take us to St. Peter's. That night 
we received an invitation to assist at Mass in the 
private chapel of his Eminence Cardinal Mar- 
tinelli. So the next morning when I saw our cab- 
man waiting for us, I ran down ahead of the others 
to tell him not to wait; for the Borghese Palace 
was only a short distance, and we had planned to 
walk. Few people in Rome are up at seven o'clock, 
so the street was very quiet; but the stillness was 
rudely broken by the driver, who clamored at the 
top of his voice in Italian. I tried to explain in 
English, French and German, not to mention 
gestures, and throwing in a few Latin words, 
declensions and all; but he kept on abusively, till 
I thought the Roman militia would arrive on the 
scene. A porter, meanwhile, had been awakened, 
and he told me part payment for the cab would 
have to be made. I had only United States money 
with me; so I left the irate man on the curb, 

164 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

scolding vigorously, until I could get Aunt Mar- 
garet to pay him anything he asked, if he would 
only keep still. The scene was funnier in the 
retrospect than when it happened. At least I 
thought so. 

Mary concluded the reminiscences with "Do 
you remember the 'Bridge of Sighs' story?" In 
one of our unforgettable tours of Venice, we had 
lost ourselves in the spirit of long ago as we passed 
through the Doge's Palace, and, deeply stirred, 
were standing on the Bridge of Sighs. A party of 
ladies met us there; and one, in the cordial way of 
tourists, addressed Mary with the words: "Isn't 
this Pons Asinorum wonderful?" Mary looked 
puzzled, and the speaker passed on with the ex- 
planation, "Why, it's in the geometry, you know!' 

It was a good thing we had our laughs before 
starting, for we hadn't many on the way over 
Mass at daybreak in the beautiful cathedral on 
the heights was a memory worth taking with us 
as one of our last impressions of Ireland. At 7.30 
the tender took us out to our liner, The Altruria, 
waiting at the sea entrance. Carlisle Fort, Camden 
Fort, Rochester Point, and Westmoreland were 
soon left behind us; and we looked toward the 
fair land of smiles and tears as long as a line of 
purple marked the horizon, wondering if we had 
really seen Erin or had only dreamed it. 

By noon the sea was rather rough, but nearly 
all the passengers gathered in the dining room 
for luncheon. Of the attendance at the other meals 

165 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

of the journey, none of us are qualified to speak; 
for we were not there. From reports we learned 
that even the racks (they were on the tables from 
dinner of the day we left Queenstown until the 
lunch which was served as we entered New York 
harbor) were not able to restrain the roving ten- 
dencies of the dishes, which, as soon as the boat 
started, must have taken to themselves sea-legs. 

For three days, when we thought at all, we 
wondered why we had ever left home. There was 
no desire for social amenities. Aunt Margaret and 
Catherine, in the adjoining room, were miles away 
from us; Mary and I were as solitary in our respec- 
tive cells as any two hermits of the Thebaid. We 
scorned words, even though the unusual was 
happening close to us. It was small matter to us 
that a camphor bottle, a vinaigrette, pieces of soap, 
and the two glasses from the toilet rack, were 
careening around on the floor with our respective 
shoes and slippers. It did not matter to us that 
the water pitcher at every third lurch threw a 
jet of water into a suit-case, and that every now 
and then a small wave swished through the in- 
securely fastened porthole. Finally, we were 
persuaded to allow ourselves to be helped on deck, 
and at once things began to brighten. The worst 
of the storm was over, but the sea remained rough, 
and we were a chastened-looking group when we 
reached New York. 

Not until we stood upon the floor of the Custom 
House shed — and it seemed good to be there — did 

1 66 



SCHOOLGIRLS ABROAD 

we realize the dreadfulness of the ordeal before us. 
We waited meekly while packages were opened and 
strings were untied. Mary seemed especially nervous 
about a box which she had placed in the bottom 
of our steamer trunk. In time it came to the 
surface in the inspector's hand; and, as he removed 
the cover, a collection of small lions and doves 
of St. Mark's, wolves suggestive of Romulus and 
Remus, and reproductions of the lions and bears 
of Switzerland, rolled out on the floor. An assistant 
inspector offered to help ''corral the menagerie," 
as he expressed it; and some one near said some- 
thing that sounded like "the Noah family." But 
discomfiture was forgotten, Custom House officers 
were forgotten, Europe was forgotten; for coming 
toward us were the dear ones from home, smiling 
a welcome which assured us that we were no longer 
schoolgirls abroad. 



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